Ginny Weasley and the Cracks of History
by JerseyControversy
Summary: A crossover with everyone's favorite redheaded witch transported back in time. Lighthearted moments, and lots of drama. There will be some pairing action at some point, but even I'm not sure with whom.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_Saturday, July 31st , 1999 or Sunday, July 26th, 1192, depending entirely on your perspective. Somewhere or other in England._

All of the hands on the Weasley clock were pointed to "Traveling" save one. It was a rare moment of isolation for the girl standing alone in the kitchen. The mid-afternoon sun was pouring through the windows, bathing everything including herself in a golden light, giving her hair the deep-red appearance of a fine jewel. Behind her, there was a sight that most people in England, and indeed the world, would call strange. Sponges were happily scouring pots and pans in the sink of their own accord, a broom and dustpan were performing an elaborate dance of cleaning unfettered by human hands, and on a corner chair, knitting needles flashed and winked in the light as they furiously wove a violet-colored baby blanket all on their own. To be sure these sights would seem strange to most, but to Ginny Weasley, daughter of a witch and wizard and a witch in her own right, there was nothing out of the ordinary about kitchen appliances performing tasks sans human participation.

Since coming back from her 7th and final year at Hogwarts a little over a month ago, the Burrow had been a veritable beehive of non-stop activity, from which these few minutes alone were a rare respite. Ginny's father, Arthur Weasley, now significantly more senior in the Ministry of Magic than he had been before the War, was constantly bringing officials around the house, sending her mother Molly into frantic frenzies of cleaning and cooking.

Ginny's oldest brother Bill and his wife Fleur were frequently popping by with the baby, or else the Weasleys were making impromptu visits to Shell Cottage to visit the _second_ Weasley girl to be born into the family in at least six generations (the first being Ginny herself). Ginny's niece Victoire was now almost exactly two months old, an adorable little cherub with a short sleek of silver hair so fine it was almost transparent, courtesy of her part-Veela mother. Charlie was still with his dragons in Romania, but due to Molly's unrelenting insistence, he came around to dinner once a week. Percy and George dropped in from London fairly often as well, Percy perhaps out of a lingering sense of guilt; George, perhaps out of loneliness.

Fred, of course, would never be coming home again.

Ron was now a junior Auror (although he occasionally helped George out in the shop now and again), and was constantly visiting home. And, since they were _finally_ officially together, this usually meant seeing Hermione as well. Ginny thoroughly enjoyed these visits. Since Hermione chose to make up her final year, she finished her 7th year at Hogwarts the same time Ginny did, and the two had grown much closer. And then of course there was Harry...

Harry Potter was a junior Auror like Ron. The pair of them had taken Minister Shacklebolt up on his offer to allow anyone who fought in Battle of Hogwarts to directly enter the Auror's Office without needing N.E.W.T.S, which meant that both Harry and Ron had waived their last year at Hogwarts in favor of joining the Ministry of Magic. Some might have thought it an odd choice for someone who had spent the previous year as the Ministry's Undesirable Number One, but Ginny knew that Harry was determined not to return to school. She understood that he couldn't bear the thought of Hogwarts without Professor Dumbledore.

Harry had also been a guest at the Burrow over the last year, of course, though not as often as Ron, and never without him. His visits had been a little awkward for Ginny, though she cherished them. She had always assumed that, with the War over, she and Harry would automatically pick up where they had left off before he had prematurely departed school with Ron and Hermione two summers ago. But so far, that hadn't happened, at least not over this past year. Although they had sent owls back and forth while Ginny was at Hogwarts, and she had seen him multiple times at the Burrow during the holidays, their relationship wasn't quite back to where it was right before the final battle at Hogwarts. It felt like...like they had forgotten how to be around each other a bit. Or maybe, Ginny reflected, it was that so much had happened, that neither really knew how to begin again, because it felt rather like brushing aside everything that had taken place with Voldemort and the Final Battle. Neither one of them was quite ready for that. So much had happened that Ginny and Harry had somehow managed to avoid talking about the details of their possible future together. For an entire year. But Ginny had resolved to be patient. Clingy just wasn't her style. After all, she hadn't even flinched when Harry told her they had to break up and that he was leaving Hogwarts to fight Voldemort. She told him once that she had never given up on him, not really. She certainly didn't intend to start now, so Ginny was fully prepared to trust that, given time, everything would work out the way it was meant to. "Meant to" of course meaning that she had Harry would be together…eventually.

Still thinking about Harry, Ginny grabbed a tiny object from the kitchen table, her hand closing in a fist around a small circle of cool grey stone about the size of a Golden Snitch. She had agonized for months about what to get him for his birthday, having missed giving him a present for two years running. The first time, Ginny didn't give Harry a gift because she knew he couldn't carry anything around with him while he was on the run with Hermione and Ron (although to be fair, she _had_ given him one hell of an epic snog before sending him off, so maybe that counted). The second time, last year, was during the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now known. The Wizarding World had still been in turmoil, rounding up the last few of Voldemort's very desperate followers. And then, of course, there had been Fred's funeral...

But this year, Ginny had been determined to give Harry a fantastic present, to make up for the previous two. She had been looking for ages - searching for that perfect something that combined both form and function. Something that would be dead useful to an auror, amazingly fascinating and rare, and would remind him of her every time he looked at it. Something heart wrenchingly personal...something extraordinary that one would only give to that special person in your life.

Unfortunately, she suspected that the gift she currently had in her hand was no such thing. Oh, it was a clever bit of magic, quite impressive actually. It was a portable Pensieve, identical to the one Professor Dumbledore had in his office save for the fact that it folded down into a compact and perfect tiny sphere of smooth grey stone, the only one of its kind. Professor Flitwick and Headmistress McGonagall had graciously assisted her in making it. And it would undoubtedly be useful to Harry, examining memories on the job, or even if he needed to clear his head. But it lacked that personal element she had so desperately wanted to give. _I'll just have to add that bit myself when I see Harry_, she thought to herself. She and Harry had had virtually no physical contact in the last year, save for a chaste peck on the cheek at Christmas. But she fully intended to give him Epic Snog 2.0 this year. Heat flooded her insides as the thought filled her with a combination of excitement and nerves.

But time was wasting. Everyone had already left to go to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the birthday party, and she'd have to get going, otherwise she'd be late. With one hand, Ginny raised the small stone sphere up on her open palm, and gave her wand a flourish with the other, muttering "_Includo_." A small, pale green box materialized around the Pensieve, topped with a bright pink bow. Ginny's forehead creased as she looked down at the garish pink with a wrinkled nose. "Definitely not," she said aloud, prodding the bow with the tip of her wand, causing it to turn a succession of colors until it finally darkened to a forest green.

Satisfied with her work, Ginny took one last look around the Burrow before twirling on the spot, her mind picturing the dark exterior of Harry's house. In the whirl of disapparating, she couldn't hear the booming noise that accompanied her departure, like the supersonic shattering of a thousand pieces of crystal.

* * *

_Author's Note: I own nothing, obviously, though I dearly wish I did. A lot of the info in this story, such as the timeline of events in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Victoire's birth, the skipping of the last year of Hogwarts for Harry and Ron etc, have been gleaned from interviews with JKR. Harry and Ginny are "taking a break" during this time, because I feel like it would be unrealistic for two 18 year olds (or, to be more specific, since this story starts on Harry's 19th birthday, still a few weeks before Ginny's birthday, a 19 year old and a 17 year old) to just pick up exactly where they left off immediately following the events at Hogwarts. To my mind, that would completely minimalize the trauma and horror surrounding the events in DH, it makes more sense for there to have been a breather period somewhere before Harry and Ginny resumed their relationship. In my mind, it's during this time that Ginny briefly pursues her professional career as a Quidditch player, and would allow her to focus whole-heartedly on that before settling down. Ginny has never struck me as someone who does things by half-measures, and the Ginny in my story reflects that (I hope)._

_This story will at some point have a pairing (I think). I say I think, because it has to happen naturally as I write. This will either be Guy or Alan (leaning towards the former, because I have some great potential scenes in mind involving Guy, Marian's death and the Pensieve, but we'll see how it goes). Given the history between Ginny and Harry, it would be unrealistic for her to instantly fall for anyone else, in any time period. She would have to believe 1) that she is never getting home; and 2) sufficient time will have to pass for her to even contemplate another relationship. Once these two criteria have been met, she can start looking at characters differently, but not before then. And I'm not sure if the romance will ever get past the acknowledgement in Ginny's mind that there_ could_ be something there, even if she never acts on it. But there will be plenty for Ginny to do, because I am actually planning on a rather complex plot that has nothing to do with romance._

_A note about the dates. Ginny is on her way to Harry's for a birthday party on Saturday, July 31st, 1999, the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. I wanted her to go backwards in time to the equivalent day in 1192, but for accuracy (as accurate as a story about a time-traveling witch can be, anyway) the date had to be converted from the Gregorian calender to the Julian calender to do so. I used a handy little online conversion tool to convert the dates._


	2. In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

"Ooomph!" Ginny pitched forward unexpectedly, her cheek making contact with the hard ground. She lay there, eyes closed and stunned for the moment, unaccustomed as she was to ending an apparition by faceplanting in the dirt.

_Dirt? Wait...why is there dirt? There shouldn't be dirt._ She cracked an eye open. There was definitely dirt.

With a heave, she raised herself to a kneeling position, and looked around, rubbing her cheek. This was _not_ Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, or anywhere else on Grimmauld Place, for that matter. The familiar and gloomy little London street was nowhere in sight. Instead, she was surrounded by tall trees, partly filtering out the bright sunlight streaming down through the leaves. The ground was dirt, sure enough, patched with dried grass, brown fallen leaves and peppered by numerous branches.

_Did I overshoot?_ Ginny asked herself, standing up and brushing off her knees. _Well that's never happened before._ Unlike some of her brothers, most notably Charlie who flat-out failed his apparition exam, and Ron, who had managed to splinch himself on multiple occasion, Ginny had always managed to apparate flawlessly. _Guess I can't take the mickey out of them anymore_, she though ruefully, with another gentle rub at her cheek. She must have accidentally ended up in a neighboring park or something. Funny how she had never before noticed a tree-filled area anywhere near where Harry lived. No matter. She would just have to disapparate from here instead.

_Destination, determination, deliberation._ Ginny spun on the spot.

Nothing happened.

"What the-" she exclaimed, stopping just short of toppling over into the dirt again. As she momentarily fought to regain her footing, her hand instinctively flew to her back pocket, which caused her to suck in her breath in a startled gasp. Her wand wasn't there. Slightly panicked, Ginny made short work of searching the ground where she had landed, as well as the adjacent area, but her wand was nowhere to be found. Harry's present, however, was at her feet.

"Damn," Ginny cursed, looking around as she bent down to scoop up the small box. She had never attempted apparating without a wand before. Technically, she didn't think it was impossible, but she had never seriously considered it before. Without her wand to focus her energy, it would be very, very dangerous to attempt. Any type of wandless magic was highly volatile and unpredictable. Even the most experienced wizards rarely attempted it, and to be honest, few were ever really in a situation where they needed to. It was true that bursts of wandless magic were possible, common even amongst children when they were hurt or scared, but specific spells were another matter entirely. Ginny had never attempted so much as a simple spell without her wand, let alone something as complicated as apparition. _I'd rather not splinch myself halfway across England because I don't have my wand. I'm rather attached to all of my body parts, thanks. So let's think. What to do?_

First things first. Priority number one was finding her wand. Ginny fervently hoped that it was somewhere nearby, but it wasn't in her immediate vicinity, that was certain. And she didn't have much of a chance of just happening to stumble upon it if she went wandering away. So she'd have to try some wandless magic first, the first she had ever deliberately attempted.

_Start off small,_ she told herself. _Keep it simple_. She decided to try the first spell she had ever learned. "_Lumos."_ she said in a loud, clear voice, looking around for the telltale glow of a wand tip, but there was nothing. Granted, it was still quite light out, it might be difficult to see. Or maybe her wand was too far away to see, or was covered by something.

"_Accio_ wand," she said firmly, changing tactics, and stretching out her arm hopefully. Summoning charms had always been easy for her. Unfortunately, not so much as a leaf rustled. Managing her disappointment, she closed her eyes and did her best to concentrate harder. Ginny felt the shape and texture of her wand in her mind's eye, tried to fill herself up with nothing but the desire to hold her wand in her hand.

"_ACCIO_ WAND!" Still nothing. "_ACCIO ACCIO ACCIO_!" Ginny opened her eyes with a sigh. Either she was crap at wandless magic, or her wand was too far away to be summoned. _Or possibly both,_ she thought glumly. _So now what?_

Ginny looked around again, then bit her lip and tentatively put her thumb out. Nothing happened. _Long shot, anyway,_ she thought, retracting her hand. Ginny doubted that the Knight Bus doubled as a off-road vehicle, although she was definitely starting to suspect that she was a highly stranded witch. And her viable options were quickly dwindling. There was nary an owl in sight, ditto for brooms, certainly no fireplaces, and unless she wanted to literally put her hands on every filthy object on the ground, she could pretty much rule out finding a random and wayward portkey. Which meant she had to either try and disapparate without her wand, or else she was hoofing it until she found one of the above. Ginny didn't particularly want to leave the area, because it was effectively giving her wand up for lost, but after over an hour of fruitlessly searching the same ground in the hopes of reclaiming her wand, she was forced to concede that she was starting to lose daylight. Ginny could only hope, however improbable it may be, that her wand had somehow remained behind at the Burrow. Surely her hand on the clock was pointed to "lost" by now, in which case her family would undoubtedly soon perform a locator charm to find her.

Bolstered by this thought, Ginny felt like she should at least try and help her situation, as opposed to twiddling her thumbs waiting around to be rescued. She made the decision to start walking after all while there was still light out, and since every direction looked the same, she decided to follow the sun and go west. She trudged off sadly thinking about her wand, with Mr. Ollivander's voice in her head, a memory echoing from almost seven years ago: "_Hazel and dragon heartstring, nine inches, quite springy, good for charms work and magical innovation."_

* * *

The more she took in her surroundings, the more she was convinced that this was no park. It seemed massive, an endless visage of trees extending in every direction. She was clearly in a forest, which presented an entirely different set of problems beyond getting to Harry's birthday party. Ginny was, after all, now wandless. She was also a witch from a pure blood family, which meant that she largely lacked even the most rudimentary muggle knowledge or equipment for effectively coping without magic in such a situation. Somehow, surviving alone and de-wanded in a forest had never made it into any of her Muggle Studies lectures.

The light sifting through to the forest floor was now a rich orange color, which meant that sunset was, at best, an hour or so off. Thus far, she'd seen no sign whatsoever of civilization, and she was seriously beginning to wonder whether she should change direction, when she heard a loud crack behind her.

Ginny whirled around excitedly, positive that she had just heard the sound of someone else apparating into the forest. Nothing could have prepared her, however, for the sight that met her eyes. She was surrounded by men. Six men, to be exact, standing slightly above her on a hill wearing various shades of brown and green in styles Ginny didn't recognize, though she was familiar with both the latest wizard and muggle fashions. They were all grinning merrily down at her, these strange men, as though they were enjoying some private joke, some secret amusement. Ginny had a sinking feeling that _she_ was, in fact, the cause of the amusement. This was confirmed when one of the men, with light wavy brown hair and a bit of a goatee, called out to her in a cheerful tone: "Now, don't take this the wrong way, lass...but this is a robbery."

* * *

_A/N: Ginny's birthday, according to JKR, is August 11, 1981, which makes her 17 as the story opens. Her wand is never explicitly described in the books, but I followed the wood convention that JKR uses to assign wand wood by Celtic birth month, August being hazel. I chose dragon heartstring for the core, because according to Pottermore, this is the most powerful core capable of the most flamboyant spells. It is also the most easily turned to the Dark Arts, which I think is a nice bit of foreshadowing to the events of CoS (not that Ginny performed dark magic of her own free will, but she and her wand showed themselves capable of it). Most of this is just background info, however, because as you've probably guessed, Ginny will be spending a lot of time without her wand. Don't want to make things too easy, do we?_


	3. The Outlaws

Instinct took over as Ginny, without thinking, whirled on the spot in an effort to disapparate. Needless to say, she failed, and nearly tumbled into the dirt for a third time.

"Bugger," she said to herself, throwing her arms out to regain her balance.

"I'm not being funny," the man continued, "but if you're trying to allure us with your dancing to spare you from being robbed, you'll have to be a bit more graceful than that."

"Allan...," one of the other men in the group, younger and with a mess of dark hair, said with a note of warning in his voice.

The first man gave a good natured shrug. "I'm only saying, I've seen much better dancing down at the tavern." He flashed Ginny a smug smile, which she returned as a glare. "And better fashion sense, too. I've never seen breeches like those," he said, eyeing Ginny's jeans. "Or that color tunic," he added, squinting at Ginny's nearly neon turquoise blouse. "And with that hair - bit odd-looking all around, really, isn't she?"

The rest of the group was now frowning at her clothes as well. She obviously looked as strange to them as they did to her. Ginny's body tensed as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. _Who are these people? Wizards? Not dressed like any wizards I've ever seen. Muggles? Still not dressed like anyone I've ever seen. _Ginny edged backward and briefly contemplated running for it, but she had a feeling it would be pointless. This group was obviously familiar with the forest. She, however, was not. _I'm in a strange place, with strange men, outnumbered with no way to defend myself. Now don't panic, but this is not looking good. _ Still, they hadn't actually harmed her. Yet. _And if all they want to do is rob me, well at least I have nothing of real value for them to take._

The men were still looking at her with quizzically raised eyebrows, as silence stretched between them. This was obviously not the reaction they normally received. The same man who had already spoken twice to her cleared his throat to fill the silence. "So...right. Look," he continued, " this is a robbery, yeah? We take 1/10th -"

"Who are you?!" Ginny interrupted with more confidence and force than she was currently feeling. "Identify yourselves!" The man who was speaking looked mildly affronted, while the man to his left, with a mop of dusty blonde hair and a scrappy beard, chuckled. One of the other men, bearded as well and wearing a strange little cap on his head, shifted forward with a look on his face almost as though he had been fairly bursting to speak.

"You, miss," he said with great dignity, "find yourself in the company of true men loyal to King Richard."

_Did he just say what I think he said?_ "_King_...wait...King _Richard_?" Ginny almost shouted, looking aghast. Queen Elizabeth had reigned in England since Ginny's parents were young, and Muggle Studies had covered enough muggle English history for her to know that there hadn't been a King Richard in England for at least 500 years. And that was a best-case scenario. At her reaction, however, the stance of the group became decidedly more aggressive. Weapons partly drawn, they all advanced down the hill a little closer to her. In front was the man with the mop of dusty dark blonde hair, clutching a bow. He was clearly the leader, and he was scowling at Ginny, who took a half step backward in alarm.

"Yes, King _Richard,_" he echoed her. "Despite the machinations of some, John is _not yet_ king." The other men grumbled their assent behind him. The initial air of fun and games had totally evaporated.

_Oh. My. God._ There may have been multiple Richards throughout muggle history, but she knew full well that there was only one John. All of her logic was in revolt as her insides seized. This couldn't be happening. It simply couldn't be. There had to be a rational explanation, some way for this to all make sense. A Confundus jinx, a daydream charm, a really elaborate muggle Ren Faire, something, _anything_ that could explain away her situation. But unfortunately, all of her senses were screaming that this was all-too real. _800-whatever years? Right. It might be time to panic._

"And now, miss," the blonde man continued, "I think it might be time for you to tell us who you are and exactly what you're doing here."

Ginny shifted her weight, and tried not to look too intimidated. _Act like you belong here, _she thought, slightly panicked_. Act natural_. Everything in her being told her to be very careful of what she said next. She had already blundered rather badly. This gang had misinterpreted her incredulity at her situation as disloyalty to their King, and as such, were regarding her as with a high degree of suspicion. If she made another inadvertent mistake, there was no telling what they'd do. If only she had her wand!

"My name is Ginny," she said, forcing her voice to sound steady and calm, as though finding herself alone in the forest 800 years in the past being robbed by strange men was all part of her daily routine. "And you are...?" she trailed off, hoping to divert the conversation back to him and glean some more information about her whereabouts.

"Forgive me miss, Allan has dreadful manners," the leader tilted his head towards the first man who had spoken to her, who was currently clutching a bow of his own and watching her with a smirk. At the words of the leader, he gave Ginny a cheerful little salute. "I, mi'lady," the leader continued, sweeping her a mock bow, "am Robin Hood. And these," he indicated the others with a sweep of his hand, "are my men. And the good people of Nottingham thank you in advance for your soon-to-be generosity." He smiled at her, but it was a smile of supreme confidence, not of good humor. He knew she was entirely at their mercy.

Ginny frowned at this new information. She was vaguely familiar with the muggle story of Robin Hood, courtesy of school, and it certainly fit what she had gathered about the time period, but that was just supposed to be an old muggle legend. _Apparently not._ But at least she had a decent idea of where she was, now. _This must be Sherwood Forest_.

Robin was watching Ginny's reaction carefully. "I see our names are familiar to you," he said appreciatively. "If that's true, you know what we do."

"You rob from the rich and give to the poor," Ginny said, automatically, feeling slightly more hopeful. She didn't know all the particulars, but the stories of Robin Hood were mostly benign. If she could convince them that she wasn't a threat, they might not harm her. _All I have to do is convince them that I really am a 12th century muggle._ _And poor_. _Well, the poor part should be easy enough, anyway._

"I have nothing to give you," she said truthfully to Robin. "I am not rich. I am carrying nothing of value with me."

"Then what's _that,_" the man called Allan cut in, moving forward. Ginny realized what he was going for, and quickly scooped up Harry's wrapped present, which she had dropped when she tried to disapparate.

"This isn't valuable to you," she said indignantly, trying to hold it away from him. "It's a present." But Allan merely scoffed and leaned forward, easily plucking the box out of her hands. Quickly, he tore off the bow, and opened the box. He paused as he frowned down at the contents.

"What is it, Allan?" a very bushy and large (though not Hagrid-large) man asked, leaning on his staff. Ginny only knew a handful of names associated with the Robin Hood legend, but one of them was Little John. _That must be him, _she thought, _he's the biggest man here._

"I'm not being funny, but I hope whoever this was for didn't have high expectations. I'd hate for them to get their hopes up." Allan reached into the box, and withdrew his hand, holding up the small stone sphere between his thumb and index finger for the group to see. "It's...a rock." He gave Ginny an incredulous look. "Who in bloody hell gives rocks as presents?"

Ginny tried to snatch back the stone, but Allan held it out of her reach with a leisurely smile. "You were expecting jewels?" she asked sourly, putting her hands on her hips. "I told you, I'm not rich." Ginny glared at Allan. She wasn't particularly worried about Allan accidentally triggering the Pensieve, he'd need a wand to do that. _And he'd need to not be from a primitive time period_, her mind added silently. But she didn't put it past him to just chuck it into the forest, where she couldn't find it. And she definitely wanted to avoid that scenario. At the moment, that "rock" that Allan was carelessly holding was her only link to home. She made another grab for it.

"Hang on, hang on," he said, waving Ginny away, his manner reminding her forcefully of Mundungus Fletcher. "Let me have a look at it properly. It might be worth something or other," he mused, turning it over in his hand. "It's a bit of an odd shape. What d'you think, Djaq?" A smaller man stepped forward, Middle Eastern by the look of him.

"It's not a natural shape," Little John said, concerned. "It doesn't look natural."

"I've never seen a stone shaped like this," agreed the small man (who Ginny belated realized was a woman) peering into Allan's hand. "But otherwise, it looks ordinary enough. I don't think it is a hidden treasure, Allan," Djaq said with a smile, patting Allan's arm. He looked extremely put out by the news.

"Right," Ginny said, moving forward. "I'll have it back then." Allan's eyebrows shot in the air, as he again easily held the Pensieve just out of Ginny's reach. "What now?! Are you planning to chisel off 1/10th of that rock?" Ginny demanded, anger and sarcasm creeping into her voice. "It's all I have. Or are you in the habit of stealing from the poor to give to yourselves?" She turned and addressed this last bit to Robin.

"That's _exactly_ what Allan is in the habit of doing," the bearded man with the strange hat muttered under his breath, just loud enough for them all to hear.

"What?!" Allan exclaimed indignantly, looking up.

Robin held up his hand for silence with a sigh. "Much...please. Allan, return the stone to the girl."

"But-"

"_Allan._"

Allan shot Robin a look, and held it out to her. But when she reached for it, he clucked his tongue at her and pulled it back ever so slightly. "Pshhh, where are your manners, lass? Easy to see you're not a lady. Although, with that hair, I wouldn't expect you to be. What's the magic word, then?"

"Thief," she snapped, snatching the Pensieve back and wiping it on her jeans as if he had soiled it. _Oh, I have a magic word for you, Allan. You're just lucky I don't have my wand._ "And I doubt you have enough experience with ladies to make an accurate assessment," she added aloud, before she could stop herself.

Much gave a badly concealed snort of amusement, but Allan merely gave her a lazy smile as she furiously met his laughing eyes, her hand literally itching to perform a jinx.

"Oh I do, I do," he assured her in a mockingly sweet and patronizing tone. "I have sampled many such delights from flowers more inviting and delicate than yourself."

Ginny scoffed. "You probably had to _pay_ for all of your samples -"

"Can we _please_ get back to the matter at hand?" Much interjected, with an exasperated look at Robin, who nodded at John.

"Didn't catch where you're from, miss...Ginny?" Little John said, his manner relaxing somewhat as he watched Ginny's exchange with Allan.

"Or what you're doing here," Robin added.

"I'm from a village called Ottery St. Catchpool," she said, eyes still on Allan.

"And where might that be?" The young dark haired man asked politely, coming forward to stand next to Djaq.

"Devon," Ginny answered, pocketing the stone. Instantly, the mood changed again.

"Those are Prince John's lands," Robin said pointedly. "You're a long way from home." The rest of the group instantly tensed again. Allan, who was only a few feet from Ginny, scowled and took a step closer to her with narrowed eyes.

_Damn,_ Ginny thought. _How the hell was I supposed to know that?_ She felt her own body tensing with renewed nerves.

"So at the risk of repeating myself," Robin continued, " why are you here?"

"I was - ah - kidnapped?" Ginny ventured hopefully.

"Are you asking us or telling us?" Allan asked, eyebrows raised skeptically.

"Erm…yes. Kidnapped. _Kidnapped, _I say_. _I never saw their faces, but _oh_ I was so frightened," Ginny placed her hand over her heart dramatically, warming to her story. "They came out of nowhere and took me and I -," she faltered as she looked at the doubtful faces surrounding her. "I, uh, must've blacked out. I woke up here. I didn't even know where I was until you identified yourselves," Ginny finished lamely. _Well, that's partly true, at any rate._

Allan snorted in disbelief and shook his head. "If you're so poor, why would anyone want to be kidnapping you?" he demanded. "Sounds fishy from where I stand."

"I don't know why," Ginny replied hotly. "But nevertheless, here I am. If I could think up a good lie, I'd have told it," she said tartly.

"You've a smart mouth for someone in so much trouble," Allan observed. Ginny ignored him, and turned to Robin and the rest of the gang.

"That _is_ a little sparse on details, miss," Robin said mildly, raising his eyebrows.

"I know it is," Ginny said. "So why else would I say it if it wasn't the truth? There are plenty of easier lies I could tell, details I could make up. Please," she said, and her distress was obvious, "please believe me. I mean you no harm. I'm no threat to any of you. I honestly don't know why I was brought here. Maybe it was all a mistake, but even if it was, I can't undo it. Something ...happened that I don't fully understand, but my family is lost to me now. You're right, I'm far from home." _Farther than I could ever tell you_. "And I'm alone."

Ginny could tell by the look on Robin's face that he was swayed by the genuine emotion in her voice. Swayed, but still not quite sure. "She'll have to come with us," he announced. Much gave every appearance of beginning to protest until Robin shot him a look.

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed. "But why? I'm no threat to you."

"That still remains to be seen," Robin said, although not unkindly. "But taking you with us is as much for your protection as ours. You say you're alone, without family. And, frankly, it doesn't seem like you have anywhere to go. If that's true, you could be in danger just wandering around by yourself. The Sheriff of Nottingham or Guy of Gisborne's men could easily happen upon you. If our reputations precede us, I'm assuming the same is true of theirs...?" Robin trailed off, looking at Ginny's face.

Ginny didn't know all the particulars, but she knew enough of the legends to know that Robin Hood and company were supposed to be the good guys, and Team Sherriff, the bad. She desperately wanted time on her own, to keep trying magic, and to try and figure a way to contact the Wizarding World and figure out what was going on...but given her vulnerability at the moment, maybe it was better to stick with the good guys for now. Ginny nodded. "That's...kind of you," she said carefully.

Robin motioned to Djaq, who came forward to Ginny with a scarf in her hands. Ginny realized with a sinking heart that they were going to blindfold her, which meant she had as much a chance of finding her way back to this area of the woods as the Chudley Cannons had at finally winning a championship. But, needs must. Any resistance now, without her wand, would be beyond pointless. Ginny bit her lip and quietly submitted while Djaq tied the blindfold over her eyes. She felt a small, cool hand clasp hers, gently leading her away from the point of her arrival in this strange place, presumably towards the outlaws' camp.

* * *

But it was slow going on the long trek through the forest. Although Djaq tried to guide her carefully, Ginny was not easily led, and was continually tripping on tree stumps and other various detritus on the forest floor. "Damn it," she snapped, after stubbing her toe yet again, this time on a large rock in her path.

"Try to be more careful, Red," said the smooth voice of Allan, right next to her left ear. "We already know you're no lady, there's no need to emphasize that you have a mouth as vulgar as your hair."

"And that's the third snarky comment you've made about my hair in under an hour! What on earth does my hair have to do with anything?!" Ginny demanded, exasperated at having to continue their verbal sparring from beneath her blindfold. She chose not to bother commenting on her vocabulary, which was positively mild by modern standards. Couldn't the stupid git just leave her alone?!

"Redheads are bad luck, of course," Allan's cheerful voice answered her. She could almost _hear_ his smirk_._ "Everyone knows that."

"There _are_ stories," Much's voice piped up in front of her. "Redheads in congress with the Devil, that sort of thing. Not that I believe it...necessarily."

"Superstitious rubbish," Robin's voice countered from behind. "I've known many redheads, and not one of them evil."

"Besides," Will Scarlett chimed in, "every single Plantagenet, including the King, has red hair. The royal family is famous for it."

"Yes, well, they are the Devil's Brood, aren't they?" Little John muttered darkly, on her left.

_Great_, Ginny thought, against the darkness of her blindfold. _Fantastic. Medieval superstition against redheads. That's the cherry on top of my day. If they're fussing this much over my hair, what in the world would they do if they found out I was actually a witch_? In her own time, the Wizarding World was well-hidden, aided in no small part by the fact that no modern muggle seriously regarded magic as even being possible, much less probable. But in medieval England, there was no such prohibitive mindset. Their general lack of knowledge of the world around them could potentially turn even the most innocent and innocuous event into proof positive of supernatural activity.

And Ginny was far from being innocent.

She knew that witches in particular were persecuted during this time period, although to be fair, some of the witches burned weren't really witches at all. And, a few real witches and wizards actually went out of their way to be captured and "burned" at the stake, from what she had read, because the flames apparently gave them a pleasant little tickling massage instead of scorching them. Stories of Wendelin the Weird's predilection for being repeatedly burned at the stake aside, Ginny wasn't sure if she could pull off a Flame-Freezing charm without her wand, and frankly she had no desire to find out.

"Well I do know at least one trait of redheads that's true," Allan's breath was warm on her cheek snapping her out of her brooding, "And this from personal experience, mind you. They've got fiery tempers and appetites to match."

Ginny's cheeks colored slightly when she realized just what kind of appetite Allan meant. "Now who's being vulgar? Besides, I thought we had already established that your experience is lacking," she said waspishly.

"We had established no such thing," Allan said, in an amused voice. "C'mere, Djaq, let me take her. I think she needs a firmer hand than yours." Djaq's smooth little hand was soon replaced by Allan's, which was significantly larger and warmer. Ginny, however, was having none of it and tried unsuccessfully to yank her hand back from him.

"Not you! If someone else is going to lead me, why can't it be someone like...like John or Much?" she demanded. _Much seems to somewhat appreciate my humor, anyway. I heard him chuckle a few times, and that's a start._

"Come on, Red," Allan said, tugging her hand and uncannily following her train of thought. "Haven't got all day. Much may laugh because you're mouthing off at my expense, but he won't thank you for delaying his dinner." Ginny sighed, and stepped forward, only to promptly stumble on a rock. "Watch out for that one," he said belatedly, in an pleased voice.

Ginny, seething with anger, amused herself during the rest of the blindfolded walk to camp with the vastly satisfying mental image of Allan a Dale being voraciously attacked by a swarm of his own flying bogeys.

* * *

_A/N: The Plantagenets, the royal house of Richard and John, really were famous for being redheads, and claimed supernatural origins by way of being descended from the freshwater spirit Melusine (aka the double-tailed mermaid on Starbucks coffee cups). For some great historical fiction about the Plantagenets, I highly recommend Sharon Kay Penman's Plantagenet series, beginning with When Christ And His Saints Slept, the story of Richard and John's paternal grandmother Matilda._


	4. Squirrels on a Plate, Berries that Sate

"This...looks like squirrel," Ginny said uncertainly, prodding the blackened carcass on her plate. On the one hand, she was hungry, and she supposed she should be thankful that they had given her food at all. But on the other hand...well…it looked like squirrel. _Where are house elves when you need them_, Ginny thought longingly, picturing the piles of delicious food that would routinely appear out of thin air in the Great Hall.

"It _is _squirrel," Allan said cheerfully across the fire, from his lounging position against a tree. He put his hands behind his head, and gave her a drowsy smile.

"Oh...," Ginny trailed off, nipping any ungrateful-sounding comments in the bud. For all she knew, medieval muggles might routinely eat rodents, she really had no idea. "Oh...well, not that there's anything wrong with squirrel," she said hastily, shooting a furtive glance towards Much.

The others chuckled, but Much folded his arms and glared at Allan, clearly unamused. "For the tenth time, it is _not_ squirrel. But even if it _were_ squirrel - and I'm not saying it is - but even _if _it were, and ifsomeone _thought_ they could do better, I'd be _perfectly_ willing to relinquish my cooking duties to that person," he said pointedly to Allan.

"No objections from me," Allan said easily. "I only thought that _some _people," jerking his chin in Ginny's direction, "might want a head's up, since we're not quite sure what standard she is used to. Although, she gives rocks as gifts, so the bar is probably already set quite low..."

"I'm not sure who you meant to insult more by that comment, me or Much," Ginny raised her eyebrows. _Stop talking. Stop talking, Ginny, don't get sucked in again_. Since arriving at camp, she had settled on a new policy of saying as little as she could, so that she could try and avoid saying the wrong thing. Again. She had been doing so well over the last couple of hours, too. The group hadn't pressed her for additional information, and she had more or less passed the time comparably silent. If Allan a Dale would only keep his stupid yapper shut, she might have a fighting chance at discretion.

"I'm not sure which you were trying to do either," Much muttered, pointedly turning his attention back to his food.

"No one would want you to stop cooking, Much," Djaq smiled warmly at him. "Would you leave us to the mercy of Allan? We'd all starve for lack of edible food in under a week." Much looked slightly mollified by her remarks. At that, the rest of the gang began to stand up, going about their business. Only Ginny remained seated, not sure what to do. To her chagrin, Allan remained seated too.

Allan merely smiled and shrugged at Ginny over the fire. "I never claimed cooking as one of my talents," he said amiably.

"Talents? As in plural?" Ginny asked incredulously, unable to stop herself. "The only talent I've observed so far is one for running your mouth."

"And I haven't seen any talent whatsoever on your end, Red," he retorted. "I practically had to carry you here to prevent you from hurting yourself. You tripped over everything in sight..."

"It wasn't in mysight, I was _blindfolded_, you prat!" Ginny interrupted indignantly, crossing her arms.

"You managed to fall over just standing in place when we found you," Allan reminded her. "Standing in place in dodgy clothes, I might add. I didn't even know they could make dye that color. You might want to do something about that, by the way. Even in full dark, it's glaring."

"At least it's clean," Ginny muttered darkly. "Which is more than I can say for some."

"You don't even seem to be able to lie well," he continued, ignoring her last comment. "I mean, really...'I don't know' she says. 'That's all I can say' she says. My honest critique of your lying skills? Pathetic."

It was on the tip of Ginny's tongue to blurt out that she in fact usually had no problems whatsoever lying, even right to her Mum on certain occasions, but she stopped herself just in time. _You want them to trust you, remember?_ "It's very revealing about your character that you consider skillful lying a desirable talent," she said stiffly, hoping to sound offended.

At that, Allan laughed outright. "It _is_ desirable, Red. And dead useful. My mouth has gotten me out of many scrapes in the past."

"Scrapes that your mouth no doubt got you into in the first place," she snapped, causing Allan to chuckle. "I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that your mouth has gotten _other _people into trouble that they weren't so lucky in getting back out of."

The instant scowl on Allan's face told her that she had hit her mark at last. Ginny surveyed his face with a fierce pleasure, having finally succeeded in goading him.

"Enough of that for tonight, I think," a gentle voice said behind her. Ginny twisted around to see Djaq standing behind her. "Come, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping." She motioned for Ginny to follow her, and Ginny obediently scrambled up, shooting Allan one last glare over her shoulder for good measure. He, however, stared moodily into the fire.

"You are a little combative," Djaq remarked mildly, as she led Ginny to a small alcove which had two piles of blankets on the ground, gesturing Ginny to the one on the left.

Ginny checked at that. "I'm sorry, Djaq. I don't mean to be. Really I don't, "she said honestly. "And I don't mean to sound ungrateful for your protection. It's just...been a really stressful day. You're not exactly meeting me at my best," she added apologetically.

Djaq nodded. "I understand. Today had been trying for you. But tomorrow, it might be in your best interest to mend some of your fences if you intend to stay here for any length of time. Especially with Allan."

"He started it," Ginny muttered darkly, sitting on her blankets. "And I mean no offense, Djaq, but I'm not sure you can _really_ understand what I'm going through."

"I understand you feel a little picked on at the moment, but Allan is part of this group. You are not. If you wish to become so at some point, you'll have to learn to get along. They may be rough around the edges, but they are good men. _All _of them," Djaq stressed firmly, when Ginny opened her mouth to interrupt. "We are also not exactly at our best, you join us in the middle of a very tense situation. Allan's attitude is out of protectiveness for the rest of us. Would you act differently in his place?" Ginny was silent at that. Djaq gave her a small smile. "And I do understand some of what you are feeling, better than you know," she said gently. "I was brought to this country against my will, as a slave."

Ginny was aghast. "You were?" she gasped, as Djaq nodded confirmation. "Did Robin and the others free you, then?"

"In a manner of speaking," Djaq nodded again. "But I also freed myself."

"And...you chose to stay here?" Ginny asked, confused. "But, why didn't you go home?"

Djaq's smile tightened slightly as she lay down on her blankets. "I had nothing to go home to anymore. Like you. Goodnight Ginny." She closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

_Not exactly like me_, Ginny thought sadly, laying down and resting her head on her arm. _I have something to go home to. I have loads to go home to, but I just don't know how I'm ever going to get back there again._

* * *

_"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,  
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."_

_Ginny buried her head in her arms, her face flooding with embarrassment._

_"I rather liked that one you know," Harry said, struggling to keep a straight face."In fact, it might be my favorite song ever."_

_"It was a poem," Ginny retorted, looking up and grabbing one of the red and gold pillows from the common room sofa. She unceremoniously chucked it at his head, and he deftly caught it._

_"It was perfect," Harry said smiling, leaning towards her for a kiss._

_Ginny was suddenly flying, flying with the wind whipping through her hair, her crimson Quidditch robes billowing behind her."Ginny!" a voice called behind her. Turning her broom, she saw Fred flying towards her. "You sneaky little chit, how'd you get so good at flying? Have you been stealing my broom?" Fred winked cheekily at her, before streaking past, bat held aloft._

_The players whirled around her in blurs of red and green as she hurtled towards the quaffle. Or was it the snitch?_

_She was standing in her bedroom. "So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing." Ginny looked at Neville in surprise. "Hang on," she said. "I don't think I'm supposed to say that to you."_

_"Of course you are," Neville said bracingly. "How else are we going to sneak into Snape's office to steal the sword? We'll need to remember, remember? Give me Harry's present, that'll do the trick."_

_"But I lost my wand," Ginny said, handing Neville the small round stone._

_"Well that was a stupid thing to go and do," Neville said. "You'll have to find another. Don't just stand there. MOVE!"_

"Don't just stand there. MOVE!" Ginny's eyes reluctantly opened at the exclamation. For a half second, she expected to see her bedroom ceiling, but the hard, unrelenting earth brought her back to reality almost instantly. She was never one for crying, but her eyes misted slightly. Though it was a jumble of largely incoherent gibberish, for a moment that dream had made her feel like she was still home. Bereft, Ginny got to her feet, and looked over to Djaq's blankets. She was surprised to realize that Djaq was already up. She looked around the corner to the source of the voices, which appeared to be Will and Allan bickering in the middle of the camp. She made her way towards the center silently.

"Will you two shut it?" Robin exclaimed. "I've had about enough of this." He eyed Ginny as she tentatively drew closer, but didn't comment. He was clearly preparing to leave, and Ginny noted that the other men seemed to be doing likewise. Will stalked away from Allan, clutching his axes.

Djaq appeared at Ginny's side. "Today," she told Ginny, "you'll stay with me and help me with some errands." Ginny nodded silently, wondering exactly what kinds of errands. She didn't ask however, because she didn't want to call unnecessary attention to herself.

At Djaq's words, however, Allan turned around and saw Ginny. If he was still angry about her comment last night, he hid it well. "You look as though you need some more beauty sleep, Red," he remarked cheerfully, far too cheerfully for the early hour.

"Look in a mirror lately?" she retorted, then bit her lip to stop from saying more. Ginny was mindful of what Djaq had said last night, so she tried to sound as mild as possible. Djaq was, so far, her best bet to making a friend in camp, and she had made it clear that she wanted Ginny to make an effort to fit in unobtrusively.

"You're definitely the cheekiest prisoner we've ever had, I'll give you that," he commented, rubbing his chin. He then turned his attention back to the task at hand, and started dropping arrows into his quiver.

"I'm not a prisoner!" she immediately exclaimed. "Am I?" she asked uncertainly, turning to Robin, who like Allan, was filling his quiver with arrows.

"Let's say that you're a probationary guest, for now," Robin said, without looking up.

"I don't know what you mean by that," Ginny said, taking a plate of food from Much, and thanking him. "Probationary in what way?"

"Restricted access to anything that could compromise us," Will answered. "And we're not leaving you on your own in camp. Not just yet, anyway. And then, if we like you, and you like us, we can try to find some way for you to pitch in."

"Then we'll see how you do," John added.

"And while we're on the subject, " Allan said, "I can't say I think it's a good idea for us to leave this cheeky madam in camp with Djaq all alone, just the two of them."

"Which is highly unflattering considering the number of times I've saved your life," Djaq pointed out, hiding a smile, as John rolled his eyes. Allan shrugged, with a smile of his own.

"I think Djaq is equal to the task," Robin said dryly, grabbing his bow.

"Yeah, well, perhaps I'd better stay behind as well, eh?" Allan began. "This one's feisty manner might just be a clever subterfuge for something more sinister."

"No, Allan, I need you today," Robin said, with a meaningful look at Allan. He motioned to Djaq, who came forward and claimed Ginny. As Ginny looked back, it was clear that the men were discussing something important. It was also clear that they didn't want her to overhear.

* * *

Ginny spent the better part of the morning and afternoon collecting various edible berries. According to Djaq, if Much was left to his own devices, there would only ever be meat on the dinner menu.

As Ginny slowly filled her basket, she regretted not paying more attention in Herbology and Potions, two of the few branches of magic she could think of where a wand wasn't strictly necessary. _Well,_ she thought, _I guess you don't need a wand for Astronomy either, but how on earth is that useful?_ And Ginny desperately wanted to feel useful, not only because she wanted to earn the trust of the gang, but also for the preservation of her own mental health. Having an occupation would help take her mind off of...things.

_If Hermione were here_, Ginny thought, _she could probably whip up a batch of Felix Felicis from memory alone._ Sharing classes with her this past year had driven home to Ginny just how formidable Hermione's magical knowledge really was. Ginny was also a very talented witch, but most of her knowledge was useless without a wand. She had just never bothered to commit things like potion recipes to memory. _Of course,_ she acknowledged, _even if I was staring at a copy of Moste Potente Potions right now, I'd have a snowball's chance in hell of finding the right ingredients around here._ She doubted things like boomslang skin and jobberknoll feathers were in ready supply. And how could she ask about them without sounding even more suspicious than she already was? _No, with my luck, I'd probably be stuck with nothing but the cheese-based potions in Mum's copy of Charm Your Own Cheese_. Ginny grinned as she pictured her mother's vast collection of magical cook books, only to have that smile fade just as quickly when she realized that she'd probably never be in the Burrow's kitchen again.

"Thinking of home?" Djaq's voice interrupted her thoughts. She had wandered over to see how Ginny was making out with her berry collecting.

"Yes," Ginny said, surprised into honesty. " I was. Something reminded me of them, and for a half second, I forget that I'll probably never see them again. But then I remembered," Ginny continued softly, "and it almost feels like I'm realizing it again for the first time." She stared at the berries in her basket, dejectedly. Djaq's face was filled with sympathy.

"You have to carry your family with you wherever you go," Djaq said simply. "Like I do. My brother, my own twin brother, was killed in the Crusades." Ginny looked up, startled, as Djaq smiled gently and continued. "I was lost without him. So I became him. He is the _real_ Djaq. I am Saffia, only Saffia, but I carry him in here," she said, tapping her chest. "Djaq lives on in here."

Ginny's eyes misted over. "I'm sorry, Djaq. I understand. I...lost my brother too," she said softly. "My brother, Fred."

Djaq gave a sad smile. "Then you know the loss better than I can tell you," she said. Ginny nodded silently, a lump in her throat. "It is a loss we share with Allan," Djaq continued, watching Ginny carefully. "His brother was killed by the Sheriff less than a month ago. He blames himself, I think, but he hides his pain well, most of the time."

Ginny sucked in her breath sharply at that, and her stomach sank a little when she remembered her words to him the night before. He felt guilty over his brother's death - that perfectly explained the abrupt change in his demeanor at her taunt. _Well how was I supposed to know about his brother,_ a hastily defensive voice in her head protested. _I didn't even mean it that way._ But it was no good trying to rationalize. In light of what Djaq had said, Ginny's words had taken on a meaning that seemed uncomfortably cruel, especially since she understood his feelings for his lost brother all too well. Ginny felt a little ashamed. She had been so wrapped up in herself and her own sense of loss that she didn't even pause to consider that the people around her might have suffered losses of their own.

Granted, she had only been there a day, and was massively disoriented to boot, but she hadn't much considered the people in her new surroundings. For the first time since arriving here, she wondered just how bad conditions in Nottingham really were. There were the stories, of course. The legends surrounding Robin Hood had always included the oppression of the masses…but she suddenly realized that these stories were no longer abstract things, events in the past. They were _real, _and these people were suffering right now, under her very nose. To be honest, Ginny had envisioned staying with the gang only temporarily for protection while she tried to figure out what to do, until she found her way home, or at worst, re-entered the Wizarding World here. But maybe she could find a way to do both - help the group _and _puzzle out exactly how she had ended up here. Maybe she could even help them magically, if she could find a way. Without them knowing, of course. She knew they'd chuck her out or worse if they ever realized what she truly was.

Djaq's questioning voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Was your brother killed in the Crusade?" asked Djaq.

"No," Ginny said, cautiously. "But he died in battle." Ginny briefly wondered how much more she could divulge about the circumstances surrounding Fred's death when any further conversation was cut short by the furious beating of horse hooves. Djaq looked up, apprehensive.

"Gisborne's men," she whispered. "Follow me, quickly." Ginny hesitated for a fraction of a second before following Djaq as silently as she could through the trees, clutching her basket full of berries. Her jeans snagged on a branch, and as she looked down, Allan's words last night about her glaring clothes hit her full force. She was suddenly acutely aware of how vibrantly her top stood out against the dull greens and browns of the forest. Djaq's clothes, on the other hand, were perfectly colored to blend into the background, effectively camouflaging her. Ginny was seriously becoming concerned that she stood out like a sore thumb when Djaq motioned her silently towards a particularly large tree. Ginny's heart quickened as the hoof beats grew louder, but she was astonished when Djaq opened up what looked like a trap door directly under the tree. The door had been neatly obscured from sight by a thick covering of leaves, which Ginny could now see were anchored onto the wood plank with very thin threads. _Hopefully, _Ginny thought as she followed Djaq into the small subterranean space, _those threads are thin enough not to be noticed_. She had barely finished crouching down with her basket when the door shut over her head, leaving Ginny and Djaq in total darkness. The pounding sound of horses galloping got even closer, until it sounded like they were right overhead. Ginny momentarily forgot to breathe as the horses slowed their pace.

Men's voices, raised to shouting, became more and more pronounced, but Ginny couldn't understand what they were saying. _Go away, go away, _she chanted to herself. _Just go away!_ Suddenly, she heard a new voice, deep and rich, bellowing what could only be an order. Even without catching every word, the note of authority in his voice was unmistakable. And just as quickly, the horses began galloping again, the sound gradually growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared entirely. But still, Djaq didn't speak, or move to open the door.

"Djaq?" Ginny whispered tentatively into the dark. She hated not being able to see around her.

"Shhhh," Djaq whispered softly. "A few minutes more. Gisborne can be...sneaky."

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow for Ginny in the dark, her ears straining to hear any telltale signs that some of the men were lingering, but she heard nothing. At length Djaq, apparently satisfied, reached up to open the door above their heads. Ginny squinted as her eyes readjusted to the light, and she finally got to take a good look at where she had been crouching. The small dirt chamber had been dug out, and the walls reinforced with wood planks against caving in on itself.

"Will's idea and design," Djaq said, with a touch of pride in her voice as she watched Ginny examine the room. "There are several more scattered throughout the forest. We use them to hide captured goods that we haven't had a chance to dispose of yet, but they have other uses. Obviously," she said with a little smile.

"Luckily," Ginny said, climbing out of the hole after Djaq, basket in hand. "I thought I was a goner for sure. I can't believe I ever bought a shirt this color," she added, frowning down at her blouse. "I must've been mad." _Or completely unprepared to be thrust 800 years back in time to where I had to worry about things like blending into the foliage. Either way._

"Ahhh," Djaq said, "well as to that, it might be a good idea for us to find you some less conspicuous clothes."

"You're not wrong," Ginny agreed.


	5. Don't-You-Know-Who?

Two hours later saw Ginny dressed in greenish-brown trousers and a tunic very much like Djaq's, courtesy of a rather large cache of clothes that, according to Djaq, the gang used largely for undercover work at the castle. They weren't a perfect fit, however, she was a little too short for the trousers so she rolled up the pant legs a bit. _Tripping over myself definitely won't be any improvement_, she thought wryly. She turned to face Djaq.

"How do I look?" she asked, extending her arms out to either side.

"Succulent," an unexpected voice said behind her right ear. She turned her head, startled, only to see Allan blithely helping himself to berries from her basket. She and Djaq raised their eyebrows at him, and he gave them both a lazy smile. "The _berries_ of course. They really are quite good." He strolled over in front of her. "All right, let's see then," he said, motioning her to hold her arms out again. Ginny pursed her lips and silently did so, as the other men followed Allan's path into camp. More than one quirked an eyebrow at Allan, who was rubbing his chin and giving every appearance of solemnly scrutinizing Ginny. "Well, turn around," Allan said, waving his hand with the air of an impatient artist. Ginny sighed and rotated on the spot, catching Robin's half-suppressed smile as she did so.

"Well," Allan finally pronounced. "You're not a _complete_ catastrophe, anyway."

"Always the gentleman," Ginny retorted as she put her arms down. Allan grinned heartily at her remark.

"What's the occasion?" he asked Djaq, grabbing for another handful of berries. Ginny unceremoniously swatted his hand away and moved her basket out of his reach. Infuriatingly, he merely continued to grin at her.

"Necessity," Djaq answered, handing Much her own basket. She then proceeded to fill the gang in on their close brush with Gisborne's men. Instantly, they were all alert.

"Was Gisborne with them?" Robin demanded, a hard edge to his voice.

"Oh yes," Djaq nodded grimly. "I'd recognize that voice anywhere, though I couldn't hear what they were saying."

"What did it sound like they were doing?" John asked.

"Were they chasing you? Looking for us?" Will added.

"Going somewhere important?" Much piped up.

"I'm not being funny," Allan commented. "But when are they _not_ chasing us, looking for us, or carrying out some underhanded scheme they think is important?" He looked at the rest of the group with a shrug of his shoulders.

Robin, his face like a thundercloud, didn't immediately respond.

"Well," Much said pointedly to no one in particular, "We have to be vigilant. Every tip-off we get might cause Gisborne to suspect that someone is feeding us information. We have to protect Lady-," he shot a quick look at Ginny before censoring himself. "That is to say, we have to protect...You-Know-Who."

That phrase, that one simple phrase, caused all of the blood to drain from Ginny's face in shock. She put her hand on a nearby tree to steady herself as she swayed on the spot. "What did you say?" she screamed, but it came out as a strangled whisper so soft that it was lost in the rustle of the wind. The rest of the group was oblivious to Ginny's distress, and continued their discussion without missing a beat.

"She puts herself in constant danger," Robin said, brooding. "That business with the necklace is the last straw."

Ginny's concentrated hard on taking deep breathes as she listened to Robin's voice. _It's not him. It's not him. They're talking about some woman. It's just a coincidence. It's not him. Ginny, pull yourself together before someone notices!_

"Hey."

_Too late._

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Will asked Ginny, who was still quite pale and clutching the tree. All eyes turned towards her, and suddenly, she was the center of attention, which was the very last thing she wanted.

"Stubbed my toe," she managed to get out, trying not to notice Allan's mouth twitching with glee. She was mildly insulted that everyone seemed to accept this explanation at face value, but she was so relieved to find out that they weren't talking about the _real_ You-Know-Who that she was prepared to let it slide.

"You do look a little peaky," Much said, while Allan frowned behind him.

"I'm fine," Ginny repeated more firmly, now that she had a better grip on herself, looking at the rest of the group. "Really, fine. Erm...who are you talking about? Who's passing you information?"

Robin exchanged a look over her head with Much. Ginny sighed. "Look, I know I haven't even been here two days yet, but I really do want to help. If I was going to betray you, I could have done it when Gisborne's men rode past me and Djaq. We were close enough that even I could have led them back to camp from there." She could see Robin was considering her words, while the others looked on in inscrutable silence. "I know I haven't been exactly forthcoming with my past, but doesn't everyone have something in their past they want to hide, or at least keep private? Is that really so unusual or hard to understand? I'll be up front with you, there are things about me that I'm not going to tell you, or anyone for that matter. It's personal. But I swear that those things have nothing to do with me betraying you. I _could_ be of help to you. No one in Nottingham knows me. I can go places the rest of you can't, because you'll attract too much attention. Let me help. I want to do the right thing."

Robin looked straight into Ginny's eyes for several long moments, and she held his gaze steadily. Then he smiled, and took a cord from around his neck, holding it out to her. Dangling from it was a roughly carved wooden pendant. "Well, if you truly want to do the right thing, then this is definitely the place. Welcome to the gang, Ginny." he said

"And that's pretty much everything," Much said at dinner, over the fire. "You're part of the gang, now you know what we know."

"And Guy of Gisborne still hasn't figured out that Lady Marian is the one feeding you guys information," Ginny asked incredulously. They all shook their heads. "He must be pretty thick," she said, with a shake of her own head.

"Well that's the problem," Robin said, with a grimace. "It's obvious, isn't it, to suspect her? And he _did_ suspect her, although we dodged that arrow. Barely." The others nodded.

"So he's either extremely thick, or extremely, uh, besotted," Will added, shooting Robin a glance. Robin scowled.

"As distasteful as Gisborne's attentions to Marian are, right now they are all that stands between her and a cell, or worse." Much said firmly. "She said she'd marry him when the King came back, but she had no choice."

"That marriage will never take place," Robin said darkly, staring into the fire. Much pursed his lips, but didn't comment further.

"Yeah well, I'm not being funny, but the Sheriff isn't thick _or_ besotted," Allan pointed out, from his position next to Ginny. "And the real question is, why hasn't he made a move yet? He must know Marian is the spy. Or he strongly suspects, and let's be honest, when has a lack of evidence ever stopped him before?"

"Well," Ginny said slowly, thinking, "Maybe he's waiting for Marian to provide the evidence for him?"

"Why would he do that?" Robin looked at Ginny intently. "Why allow her to pass us information all this time, and let us rob him? Why is she important to him?"

"I don't know," Ginny admitted. "But maybe she's not the one who is important. Maybe it's Gisborne."

"If Gisborne really cares for Marian," Will began, picking up on Ginny's train of thought, "Maybe that's why." Robin made a derisive noise, but Will kept going. "No, hear me out, Robin. If Gisborne cares for Marian, maybe the Sheriff doesn't want to alienate him by going after her yet."

"The Sherriff wants Gisborne's loyalty, so he needs the evidence against Marian to be strong enough that Gisborne will believe it," Djaq said thoughtfully.

"So he waits," John said.

"He must know it's only a matter of time before she incriminates herself," Will said, while John nodded.

"And then," Ginny piped up again, "it'll be Gisborne's fault that Marian betrayed them, and he'll have them both."

"And make them both suffer," Allan finished, looking at Ginny.

"We can't let that happen," Robin said, standing up suddenly. "If that's true, and the Sheriff already suspects her, then she's in even more danger than we thought." He stalked away from the fire, with Much scrambling up after him.

"Master, you're not thinking of going alone..." they heard Much's voice trail off. Less than a minute later, a disgruntled Much stomped back to the fire and flounced down onto the ground. Robin, it transpired, had indeed gone off to Knighton alone.

The topic of Marian and Gisborne was discussed at length around the fire after Robin left, with plenty of jabs taken at Gisborne and the Sherriff, unsurprisingly. Ginny mostly sat quietly, absorbing information. But when the conversation died down, Djaq gave her an encouraging look over the fire.

"When Ginny and I were picking berries," she began, "before Gisborne's men came, she was telling me a little about her family, and her brother."

Will perked up instantly. "You have a brother?" he asked. "I have a brother too, Luke, a little younger than me. Is your brother older or younger?"

Ginny smiled. "I have more than one," she admitted, "and they're all older."

"What are their names," John asked curiously.

"Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron," she rattled off. Eyebrows shot up all over the camp.

"Six?" Allan asked incredulously. "You have six older brothers? All redheads too, I suppose?"

"Yes," Ginny said softly. "All of them. But I only have five, now. My brother Fred, he died last year. Almost exactly a year, actually." Allan looked Ginny without saying anything.

"Died in battle," Djaq prompted.

Ginny pressed her lips together. "Yes," she said shortly, without offering any additional information. She really wasn't sure how much she should tell about Fred's death. And lying about it was something that she just didn't feel right doing. It felt insulting to his memory somehow to have to create artificial circumstances and scenarios.

"But not in the Holy Land," Djaq prompted again, gently. Ginny paused, but all eyes were on her, and no one gave any sign of jumping into the conversation. They were all waiting for her to speak.

"No," she said finally. "Not in the Crusades. You wouldn't have heard about it way over here, it was a local matter. There was a...a very bad man. So bad that we don't even speak his name, usually. He was very strong, and very powerful, and he and his followers terrorized everyone. Murders, destruction, senseless killing, it was just awful. Brutal, really."

All eyes were on Ginny's face, but her eyes were unfocused as her mind rushing back through time, skirting over old emotions. "Just his name alone was enough to strike terror in the heart of everyone I know. Still is, actually." _Including my own, _she added silently. "So we would call him other things. 'You-Know-Who', or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', that kind of thing. And his followers, the Death Eaters, called him 'The Dark Lord'."

There was a collective intake of breath around the fire.

"Death Eaters? Dark Lord? That sounds like witchcraft," John said roughly, but Ginny could hear the fear in his voice. She knew that John was particularly superstitious. But looking around the fire, she saw the same apprehension mirrored in the other faces. They were all fearful of witchcraft, that much was obvious. Ginny debated for a half second, before deciding to press on just a little more. If she was going to bother telling them anything at all, she wanted them to understand, at least a little, just how bad Voldemort really was.

"It _was_ witchcraft," she said simply. "He and his followers practiced dark magic. And what's worse, they were really good at it." The others shifted uncomfortably. Clearly talking about witchcraft made them agitated.

"And there was a battle where people fought him? That's how your brother died?" Will asked, filling the silence. Ginny nodded. "That must have been hard for you to hear."

"To see," Ginny corrected, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I was there too."

"You fought in the battle?" Much asked, surprised. Allan was uncharacteristically quiet, but he too was staring at Ginny with the same surprised expression worn by the others.

"We all did," Ginny said as she hugged her knees. "All of my brothers. My parents. My friends. We lost a lot of good people in that battle," she said softly, seeing them in her mind's eye. "Poor Fred, and Tonks and Lupin, Colin Creevey, and so many others. We were all there, fighting."

"Fighting against dark magic?" John asked, aghast. "How did you dare? How was it even possible?"

"Because we had a choice," Ginny said quietly, remembering Dumbledore's words, "between what was right and what was easy. We knew going in that the odds were not in our favor, and that's putting it pretty mildly."

"But you fought anyway," a new voice said behind her. Startled, the group turned to see Robin behind them, leaning against a tree.

"How long have you been there?" Much demanded, incredulous.

Robin gave a small smile. "Long enough," he said, coming to reclaim his seat by the fire. "Marian, as usual, would not listen to my warnings about Gisborne and sent me packing forthwith. So Ginny," he said, turning to her, "You fought anyway. Even though the cause may have been lost."

"It's only lost when you stop believing in it," Ginny answered stoutly.

Robin smiled. "We may have more in common than I thought," he said.

* * *

Ginny laid her head on her arm. _Today_ _was a productive day_, she thought to herself. She had earned the trust of the gang, at least somewhat; she had even officially been made a member; and she had managed _not_ to fight with Allan, all in the course of a single day. It didn't compare with, say, finding a way home, or finding her wand, but she'd have to start putting things into perspective and be happy about the little things, otherwise she'd go barking mad in under a week.

_And speaking of perspective_, she thought to herself, _I need to be more careful_. _I nearly had a nervous breakdown when I heard Much say "You-Know-Who."_ This in itself was surprising, since Ginny had talked about Voldemort to Harry, Ron and Hermione often over the last year without so much as a second thought. After all, he was gone. A has-been. Officially a non-entity. And besides…Harry had been there. But she really couldn't explain her reaction now, except that when she heard Much, it was like hearing a wrong note, a high pitched tone that completely unbalanced her. Somehow, thinking of Voldemort here, in this place, filled her with an irrational foreboding she couldn't quite understand.

_You're completely mental,_ she admonished herself. _Voldemort is dead…or he hasn't even been born yet, more like. Hell, Voldemort's great-great-great-great-great grandfather hasn't even been born yet._ Ginny checked at that for a moment, as the full implication of the thought slowly hit her, causing her to sit straight up. A dim ember lit in the back of her mind and started glowing, as excitement shot straight through her down to her fingertips. Besides her, Djaq rolled over, quietly snoring in a peacefully undisturbed slumber. The rhythmic sounds of her breathing kept time with the pulsing energy in Ginny's brain. In her mind's eye, she was back in Grimmauld Place, fingering a tapestry. A tapestry with delicate gold threads tangled in a glittery and dizzying network of connections, the family tree of the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'. She could still see the countless offshoots and tendrils, curling around so many families including her own, like a sticky and silky spider web, binding them all together. _But not everyone's family tree is quite so complicated, is it?_ she thought wildly, her heart thudding audibly in her chest. _Not everyone is part of the web_.

Voldemort was the only living descendant of Salazar Slytherin, hadn't she heard that often enough? _No one else in the Wizarding World is descended from him. No one except You-Know-Who_.

It was perfect. Only a single line, one delicate gossamer thread, connected someone in this time period with Voldemort and Voldemort alone. She might not be able to get back to her time, but maybe she could _give _back to her time. Her head started to thunder with the implications. No war, no Death Eaters, no murdering Harry's parents...and no dead Fred.

The ember in the back of her mind ignited into a full blazing fire of fierce determination. This, surely, was why she was here. She had been wrenched from her own time for a purpose much greater than herself. Ginny was filled with a curiously comforting warmth as absolute certainty and calm acceptance filled her very being. Her way forward was so simple, suddenly so clear. All she had to do was find Voldemort's ancestor here in this time. Find him...and kill him.


	6. Coming in for a Spell

_Late August_, _1192_

Ginny threw herself into her new surroundings wholeheartedly. She had two missions now, helping Robin and the gang, and ending Voldemort 's reign of terror before it even began. Exactly how she would achieve the latter, she wasn't worried about quite yet. Voldemort's ancestors weren't going anywhere, after all. She couldn't risk anything going wrong. She needed to do this just right, with careful planning and preparation.

And, preferably, a wand. Neville's words from her dream kept echoing in her mind. _'You'll have to find another'_ Dream-Neville had said. This had gotten Ginny thinking over the past few weeks. Could she get another wand? So far, she hadn't met anyone who seemed like they had a speck of magical ability, but of course, her contact had been restricted to the muggles in the forest. If she could only find another witch or wizard, she could ask them where to get one. Barring that, her only other idea was to try and make her way to London. She didn't know if Diagon Alley existed in this time period, but she distinctly remembered the faded gold lettering outside Ollivander's Wand Shop - _'Makers of fine Wands since 382 BC.' _ Ollivander's was somewhere out there, and London was the logical place to start looking. Of course, that didn't solve the problem of getting there. Ginny kept hoping that something would draw the gang there, since Robin was so vitally interested in the struggle for the throne between King Richard and Prince John, but it hadn't happened yet. And she felt far too vulnerable to attempt it alone, at least any time soon. Going to London might not be feasible at the moment, but she had to keep it in mind.

And she also had to focus on contributing to the gang, which was the more immediate task at hand. In fact, she kept herself so busy that the next few weeks passed by in a blur, and her 18th birthday slipped away in the beginning weeks of August without Ginny even noticing.

Along with Djaq, she was now responsible for gathering berries and other edibles, herbs, and occasionally, medicinal plants. Djaq was, among her many roles, the group physician, and was constantly on the lookout for new supplies. Ginny herself may have had superior modern knowledge of healing, but that knowledge wasn't of much use at the moment without her wand. Although, Ginny _had_ managed to surprise herself with how much Herbology she actually remembered (_Neville would be so proud_)_, _and she had thoroughly impressed Djaq by finding white dittany at the market. Luckily, they hadn't needed to use it yet, but Ginny boiled it down and bottled the essence for the future.

Additionally, she was starting to learn how to fight in the muggle fashion. Training to fight like a muggle was hard, but Ginny learned quickly. The gang tried her at a variety of weapons first before settling on the bow. "Just mind where you aim," Allan had told her. "I'd rather not take an arrow to the backside because your hand slipped."

But she quickly put Allan's annoying insistence that she was the most uncoordinated creature in the forest to rest by proving herself a steady and surprisingly accurate shot. The reputation she had initially acquired in Sherwood Forest for being a klutz was actually quite galling, and thoroughly undeserved. Years of Quidditch and being on a broom had given Ginny strong core muscles, along with excellent balance and reflexes. As Captain of the team, she had led the Gryffindors to the Quidditch Cup, undefeated for the first time in 80 years. Oddly enough, Professor Slughorn, the Head of their biggest rival House, was one of her most enthusiastic fans. He had even arranged an introduction to Gwenog Jones, her idol and the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, at one of the Slug Club meetings. Gwenog had also attended the championship match and had been so impressed with Ginny's flying that she had arranged for Ginny to have a trial with the Harpies to begin this August. Or rather, August of 1999, and Ginny was still getting used to the idea that it was no longer 'this August' at all…

Robin had chosen the bow for her because he said he'd rather not have her directly in hand-to-hand combat if they could help it since, given her size, she'd be a tempting target for their enemies. Ginny kept her indignation in check by reminding herself of when and where she was and thus managed to stay silent, especially since Robin was graciously shouldering the bulk of the responsibility for teaching her. He had even proclaimed her a model student. Frustratingly, however, Ginny hadn't been allowed to patrol with the gang yet. She was restricted to the forest or Locksley and Nettlestone excursions, either with Djaq or occasionally now, on her own.

But, in spending more time with the gang, she began to see qualities in the people around her that were reminiscent of her friends and family. No one could ever replace the people she had left behind, but seeing some of their traits in others, making a sort of surrogate out of the outlaws, helped comfort her and dull the sharp ache of her longing at least somewhat. Robin was like Harry in some ways. He was the leader, and he constantly put himself in harm's way for others. John was Hagrid, not just because of his size, but because of his outwardly gruff yet kindly nature. Djaq was Hermione, she was the smartest person in camp, although Ginny had to admit that Djaq had the advantage over Hermione when it came to having a sense of humor. Will reminded Ginny of Neville, although without any trace of the self-doubt that had once plagued her friend. Ginny had been close with Neville ever since he had asked her to the Yule Ball in her third year, a bond that had been strengthened when the two of them became the _de facto_ leaders of the Hogwarts resistance due to the absence of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Neville was brave, determined, honest and steady, and she could see the same qualities in Will. She supposed that left only Ron and Allan, but for the life of her, she couldn't see any similarities between the two - apart perhaps from the way she and Allan bickered constantly. No, Allan was definitely more like Mundungus than Ron, to be honest. But as exasperating as he was, however, she was starting to learn that there was no real malice behind his manner, even towards her, although she still thought he was a self-centered and self-seeking little toe rag. Still, he seemed to have a genuine friendship with everyone else in the gang, particularly Will. This last bit surprised Ginny, because the two couldn't be any more different in terms of their character.

Having spent the most time with Robin, by virtue of being his student, she could easily see why he was the leader of the outlaws. He was a natural, all at once charismatic, encouraging, and enthusiastic. He put himself in harm's way again and again for the people of Nottingham. That was how he reminded Ginny of Harry, willing to sacrifice himself for his cause, for the greater good. But it wasn't a wholly accurate comparison, because Robin's motives weren't entirely selfless. For his own part, Harry had always shunned attention. He never looked for any type of reward or personal fulfillment beyond knowing that his friends were safe. Robin was just the opposite. Same actions, but in contrast, he actually reveled in the attention. If Ginny had wanted to be unkind, she might have privately confessed that this aspect of Robin's personality was closer to Gilderoy Lockhart than Harry Potter. Robin lived to see the look on people's faces when he helped them, loved to hear the townsfolk singing his praises. But she couldn't be too hard on him for that. Ginny had to admit that the rush of satisfaction that came from seeing how much you helped people was seductively strong. Robin fed off of that reaction, to the point where it bordered a little on narcissism, but it also drew the others in as well, closer to him and the cause. She had commented on this to Much one day, about the qualities that made Robin a natural leader. "Oh yes," Much said in response. "Well, I mean, you'd expect a lord to have all those qualities, wouldn't you?"

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks. "What?" she asked, shocked. "Robin's a lord?"

Much looked at her, confused. "Not just any lord," he said. "Robin is the Earl of Huntington, recently deposed of course, by the Sherriff. I thought everyone knew that."

"No," Ginny said, amazed. "I had no idea." She trailed after Much back to camp, absentmindedly caressing the small cool stone that never left her pocket, as her mind was working furiously. That made no sense to her, none at all. She didn't remember anything about Robin being an Earl in the legend. In fact, from what she remembered, the legend was rather sketchy about Robin's origins altogether. Sometimes he was a lord, sometimes a peasant, but it was all very vague, as intangible as a puff of smoke. But the Earl of Huntington...that was something solid. That was something highly specific. That was real.

_Surely there are records of the Earls of Huntington_, Ginny wondered to herself. _There must be. So if Robin really was such a highly visible lord, then how come no one in my time knows that he really existed? How in the world did Robin Hood and his men end up falling through the cracks of history?_

* * *

Ginny was being left on her own again today in the forest. Everyone else, including Djaq, would be going to Nottingham. Ginny was very put out over missing the opportunity to finally see Lady Marian, who was at the castle that day, but Robin was firm.

"Think of yourself as our secret weapon," Robin had told her, "because you were right, no one knows you in Nottingham. But you're not exactly inconspicuous with that hair - I'm not insulting you," he insisted with his hands raised, when Ginny made an angry noise. "It's just a fact. Word would spread pretty fast about the redheaded bandit, and then we'll lose the element of surprise. So you need to stay relatively out of sight for now. We want to save your debut for something special."

Ginny pursed her lips, but didn't argue. She usually took advantage of these times where she was left on her own in the forest to try magic, but she was not having nearly as much success as with her bow. She had attempted every simple spell she could think of, trying to channel her energy into each incantation. She had even tried making a makeshift wand, but it was no use. She had succeeded in making small to moderate blasts of energy, but they were unfocused, completely beyond her control, and not at all what she had intended. Ginny fervently hoped that practice would make her better, but for right now, it was still too risky to try and help the group by doing magic. To say nothing of trying to take on the witch or wizard ancestor of Voldemort.

Allan noticed her petulant expression at being left behind, and couldn't resist needling her. "Don't pout, Red," he called over with a saucy smile on his face. "I know you miss me when I'm gone, but I'll be back soon. Try not to burn down the camp in a fit of pique this time, and I might even bring you back something pretty." He winked at Ginny, who frowned. Allan didn't know it, but he was referencing the aftermath of the first and last time she had surreptitiously attempted magic while still inside the camp. She had tried to levitate one of Will's tools, which should have been harmless enough, but her cry of "_wingardium leviosa!" _ had accidentally caused a pile of dry leaves on the opposite side of camp to erupt into flames instead. A disgruntled Much had come back to camp only to find all of his blankets singed, which had delighted Allan to no end. Since this little incident, Ginny had made sure to be well away from camp before trying any magic whatsoever.

"Don't flatter yourself," she retorted dryly, which caused him to chuckle and give her a pert little wave good-bye as he followed Will and John out of the camp.

Before Djaq left, she came over to Ginny, pulling her aside. "There's someone I'd like you to see while we're gone," she said. "In Locksley. Don't call attention to yourself. Her name is Matilda, and she has a plant that I'd like you to get for me. Are you familiar with butterbur?"

"You mean coltsfoot?" Ginny asked, surprised. "For what?" If she remembered Snape's interminable lessons correctly, it was used to make the Nonsomnium Solution, but Ginny could not think of a single non-magical use of that plant.

Djaq smiled wanly. "It is the summer time," she said, "and although we are in the country, there have been recent reports of plague from villages too close for my comfort. I have heard that this plant may be of use should we need to avoid the Black Death or other illnesses. I wish to examine it closer."

Ginny, knowing retrospectively the devastation that bubonic plague caused in Europe, rather doubted the effectiveness of coltsfoot as a remedy but she kept silent and obediently walked towards Loxley, lost in thought. Here was another worry, and oddly enough, one that she hadn't even considered yet: disease. Healers were so effective in her time that she rarely gave infections a second thought, because there were few things that couldn't be taken care of with a little spot of Pepper-Up Potion or the like. And although she fully accepted the risk of bodily harm that would ultimately accompany patrolling and fighting with the gang, simply getting a cold and dying for want of modern medical attention had never occurred to her until that moment.

"You must be Ginny," a voice cut into her thoughts. Ginny, startled, came to an abrupt halt in front of a rather small hut right at the edge of the village. Directly in front of the hut stood a middle-aged woman in a brown dress, with a brown linen turban wrapped around her hair. "Djaq said one of you would be coming along to see me."

"Erm…yes," Ginny admitted, not sure if she should extend her hand for a shake. _What do people do here?_ "And you're…" she trailed off, as it occurred to her that she might want to exercise a little caution.

"I'm Matilda of course," the older woman said, "But you're right to be careful. Never know who's lurking about, do you? Come on inside dear," she said, waving Ginny into the small hut.

Ginny stepped over the threshold into the dark hut, which was surprisingly clean but very crowded. Dried herbs of every assortment hung from the ceiling, and gave the entire hut a smell not unlike the Herbology greenhouses at Hogwarts. A collection variously sized glass, clay and stone canisters, vials and jars covered almost every other available surface, filled with an impressive assortment of liquids as well as other items that Ginny could not readily identify. Right in the center, sitting at a small wooden table also covered with jars, sat a young woman with curly hair, eating a bowl of what looked like stew. She gave Ginny a cheerful little wave, which Ginny returned along with a tentative smile.

"My daughter Rosa," Matilda said, from behind Ginny. "Would you like a bite to eat, dear?"

"No thanks, Matilda," Ginny said thoughtfully, looking around the contents of the hut. It was quite an extensive collection. Ginny _knew_ instinctively that Matilda was not a witch, and yet, her hut looked exactly how Ginny would have expected a medieval witch's hut to look. "Matilda," Ginny began again tentatively, "I don't mean to be rude…but what exactly _are_ you?"

Matilda chuckled throatily and joined her daughter at the table, gesturing for Ginny to take the last seat. "Me?" she asked, with a shrug. "Oh, I guess you could say I'm a lot of things. I'm a midwife. I'm also a healer. Some people 'round these parts even call me a wise woman 'cos of my knowledge of herbs. The truth is, I just pay attention more than most people. And I don't let superstition intrude." Matilda reached behind her, and plucked a large bundle of spiny looking pink flowers off of a neighboring shelf. "Take this plant here," she said, waving it at Ginny. "It's what you've come for. Butterbur, to treat plague."

Ginny frowned unconsciously at the little plant, and Matilda chuckled again. "You look doubtful," Matilda said. "And you know what? I'm inclined to agree." Ginny looked surprised and started to speak, but Matilda held up her hand. "_Privately_, mind you, but I don't make a show of it. Know why?" Ginny shook her head, confused. "Because," Matilda continued, "people need something to believe in. Truth is, there's nothing in here or anywhere that probably makes one straw of difference as to whether someone recovers from plague. Alone, anyway. But I've learned that if people _believe_ they can get better, generally they really are much better off than those people who believe it's hopeless. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense, actually," Ginny said. "By giving them something to hold onto, they find strength of their own that they didn't know they had."

"Precisely," Matilda beamed. "We have power over so much more than we realize, of that I'm certain. What we _believe_ really makes a difference. And the Sherriff," Matilda's face darkened, "believes that this will save him from plague, so he's confiscated every last stem of butterbur that the monks at Kirklees Abbey have grown and he's hording it all for himself. This bunch," she waved the flowers again, "I had to steal, and there'd be a heavy price to pay if anyone knew." She held it out to Ginny.

"I'll be careful," Ginny promised, wrapping her hand around the stems. At that moment, Rosa began coughing from the stew, and Matilda thumped her on the back. But in a few short seconds, Rosa ominously stopped making any sounds at all, and merely clutched at her throat.

"Rosa? Rosa!" Matilda hollered, thumping her harder as her face started turning an ugly purple color.

It happened so fast that Ginny didn't even have time to think. She sprang up from her chair and reached out towards Rosa. "_Anepneo!_" she shouted, her arm outstretched. Immediately, the carrot that had lodged in Rosa's throat came flying out, and Rosa's rapid gasps began to turn her face back to a normal color. Matilda stroked her daughter's hair in relief, and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she looked at Ginny as if seeing her for the first time.

"You're one of them," Matilda said, and it wasn't a question.

Ginny knew she should have denied it, knew that she should be concerned about being exposed as a witch, but strangely, she felt an overwhelming sense of calm come over her. "Yes," she said simply.

Matilda smiled. "I know someone you should meet."


	7. Which Witch?

"All the ones of your kind fled this area," Matilda told Ginny as they walked in the mid-afternoon sun. "All except one. I don't know where they went, but they never came back. That was years ago, when I was still just a little girl." She and Ginny were walking along the King's Great Way which, along with the North Road, were the two major roads leading from Nottingham through Sherwood Forest. "Only the _Piseogaí_ chose to stay. She's so old that the Sheriff's men rarely bother her. She doesn't appreciate much of anyone bothering her, actually. But I think she'd want to meet you…and I think you should meet her. She lives just over the way here, in Pappelwick."

Before long, Ginny found herself standing in front of a cave in the middle of the forest, not visible from the main road. She blinked in surprise, and looked at Matilda. "It is a hermitage," Matilda answered her unasked question. "This is where the _Piseogaí_ lives."

"In the cave?" Ginny asked uncertainly, trying unsuccessfully to peer into the darkness. Matilda smiled.

"Mortianna likes her privacy," she said, ushering Ginny inside. "I'll wait here," Matilda said, remaining at the mouth of the cave.

Ginny exhaled slowly, and then started to walk deeper into the cave. The further she got inward, the more difficult it became to see, to the point where Ginny had to grab onto the wall to guide her, which was surprisingly cool to the touch. She walked for a long time, in the dark, for what felt like at least a mile. She kept debating whether she should turn around, but she did not. The possibility of meeting another witch was just too important to give up on. And exactly when she was completely disoriented, and could no longer tell the direction she was walking in, two large pillar candles flanking Ginny suddenly erupted into flames, lighting a small and bare chamber inside the cave. The walls were covered with paintings of ancient runes, but the chamber itself held only a pile of threadbare blankets and a rickety table with two chair. Ginny gave a start when she realized that there was an old woman sitting stooped over in one of the chairs, and in her hand…_a wand_. Ginny inhaled sharply as she approached the old woman, her excitement growing. At last! After weeks, she was about to make her first contact with the Wizarding World. Ginny was about to introduce herself, but the old woman held up her hand for silence.

"I can not give you what you seek, Ginevra Weasley," the woman said, in a thin and reedy voice. "You want answers. I have answers, but they are not for the questions you will ask."

Ginny was taken aback. "How did you know my name?" she asked, wide eyed. "I haven't told anyone anything more than 'Ginny'."

The woman gestured at the chair, which Ginny took. Even by the dim glow of the candles, Ginny could see the milky white tell-tale sign of the cataracts that probably rendered the woman effectively blind.

The woman smiled a near toothless smile. "I sense things. I see things. Where you are from, my gift is rare, I think. One day, it will be all but stamped out of our kind by those who fear it."

"You're a Seer?" Ginny asked, surprised. She knew predictions and foresight were possible, of course. Professor Trelawney's prediction about Harry and Voldemort was proof of that (although Ginny had always wondered how much of the prophecy was self-fulfilling). But Trelawney had no memory of her prophecies after she had made them. That did not seem to be the case with Mortianna.

"Some call us such," the old woman nodded, her rheumy eyes looking right through Ginny. "I know things, without having to be told. I know, for instance, that you do not belong here, Ginevra."

"No, I don't," Ginny began eagerly. "I - ," she was cut off as Mortianna raised her hand.

"You were brought here," Mortianna said. "I know. I felt it happen. "

"It wasn't an accident then?" Ginny asked, almost afraid of the answer. "It wasn't just a random case of magic going horribly wrong? Someone did this to me on purpose? But how?"

"Magic _did_ go horribly wrong ." Mortianna said quietly. "Many barriers that should never have been crossed were damaged in order to bring you here. You were called here to fulfill a task, but your being here has set another series of events into motion, events that only you could initiate. Those events have just begun and have also just come full-circle, and now you are forever bound to that loop, daughter of Arthur."

"Wh - what?" Ginny stammered, floored. But Mortianna only shook her head.

"Everything that you have done, are doing, and will do is connected by a web that you do not yet fully understand. There is much to this story, and ironically, time is something we do not have at the moment. But I can tell you this much, keep a tight grip on that stone in your pocket and watch for the Prince's Wizard. And now you must leave," she said to Ginny. "It must be now. Do not worry," she said, seeing Ginny's face fall. "We will speak again. I will call for you at the proper time."

Ginny had a thousand questions that died on her lips, but she didn't argue. She was too excited to have finally found a witch to risk alienating her. She didn't even question how Mortianna would contact her. She simply nodded, and went back to the passage she had come from, which was much easier to find with the candles lit. She entered the passage and groped for the wall during the long walk back as the light receded behind her. Ginny was thoroughly confused. Someone brought her here. Mortianna seemed certain of that, but there was a frustrating lack of details as to _why_.

If Mortianna was so short on time, couldn't she have blurted out something more informative than a series of vague statements that bordered on nonsensical? Ginny particularly didn't like that phrase, 'c_onnected by a web'_, it was uncomfortably close to the rationale she had used when she first mentally justified her plan to kill Voldemort - or rather, Voldemort's ancestor. Did Mortianna already know that? Was she trying to tell Ginny that her actions would have unintended consequences? _And what is this business about a Prince's Wizard? He's the only other magical person Mortianna mentioned, is he the one who brought me here, then? _Ginny was lost in thought during the rest of her dark walk until, at length, she saw light at the far end of the tunnel.

Ginny squinted in the light, but realized quickly that Matilda was gone. Thinking that this could hardly be a good sign, she hurried back to the main road, only to see why Matilda had fled. A contingent of the Sherriff's men was on the road, directly between her and where she needed to go. She quickly ducked out of sight, blessing Djaq for giving her clothes that easily blended into the surrounding foliage.

She was debating what to do when she heard loud voices raised in anger, coming towards the direction of the men. Voices she recognized. _That sounds like John,_ she thought. _And Will._ Sure enough, John and Will waltzed directly into the middle of the Sherriff's men, seemingly oblivious as they argued. They were going back and forth, was that something about a miller's daughter? But then Will caught Ginny's eye, and subtly jerked his chin to the left. Ginny very carefully circumvented the men, and slowly made her way in the direction Will had indicated. Suddenly, a hand shot out from under the bushes, and grabbed her ankle, yanking her down. Ginny tumbled down in surprise underneath the bush, only to find herself laying right next to Allan. Will and John's shouting was increasing in volume, and Allan turned to Ginny. "That's our cue," he whispered, grabbing her hand. "Keep your head down." He gently tugged her, and Ginny obediently followed, while all eyes were still on John and Will. They moved quickly and silently, and came out further up the road, far enough ahead that they no longer heard the voices of John and Will. Ginny twisted her head to look behind her for the two they had left behind, but Allan was determinedly walking back towards camp, dragging her along. She pulled on his hand to halt his walking, and he turned around with a sigh.

"Look, they'll be just fine, I promise," he said. "We should get back to camp." Allan looked at her impatiently, and then suddenly gave her a mischievous smile. "Come to think of it, this is the second time I've saved your life and had to lead you by the hand to camp. That's two you owe me, Red."

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed. "You haven't saved my life twice, you humongous git! The first time, you weren't saving me, you were robbing me! That doesn't count! " She tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

Instead of letting go, however, Allan carefully tucked her hand under his arm and patted it. "If anyone asks," he said, ignoring Ginny's outburst, "we're a married couple from Rochdale enjoying a stroll in the forest, yeah?" Ginny sighed, but she resignedly fell in step next to him. "And not to beat a dead horse but I - we, that is - saved you from _yourself_ that first day. There you were, just wandering around, like a bright blue target, no never mind to anyone. You wouldn't have lasted through your first night without us, Red."

"That's still up for debate," Ginny argued, while Allan shook his head. "And not that I'm not grateful that you guys came to get me just now, but how did you even know where to find me?" she asked curiously.

"Man's intuition," he said smugly, to which Ginny merely raised her eyebrows. "Alright, alright, Matilda," he admitted. "She spotted the Sherriff's men and made a beeline back to camp to warn Robin.

"She knows where the camp is?" Ginny asked, surprised.

Allan half shrugged. "Robin trusts her," he said. "More than almost anyone. Well, I guess that's no surprise really, he's known her longer than anyone still living. She's the midwife that delivered him, you know. Why did Matilda bring you to the Hag, anyway?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and slight revulsion.

"Hag? Hag?! Her name is Mortianna," Ginny snapped, greatly affronted on behalf of witches everywhere. "And she's a nice old lady who's probably very lonely." _And I wish I could jinx your lips shut for that little display of prejudice._

"Alright, alright, I was just curious, don't get your red up! A lot of folks around here are interested in her. She's famous for being a witch, you know, or at least she used to be. My cousin even says she turned our friend into a frog for mouthing off to her, if you can believe it. Mind you, we never did see that chap again after that."

"Since your cousin is related to you, I'm leaning towards _not_ believing it," Ginny retorted. However, given that Mortianna really _was_ a witch, it was entirely possinle that she had indeed reduced Allan's cheeky little friend to an amphibian.

"Hmph," Allan said, as they strolled arm-in-arm closer to camp. "Well, people have tried to get her to make remedies or predictions or whatever lots of times, but she hardly ever does. She rarely even talks to anyone anymore, so I hear. Didn't even know she was still alive, to be honest. Why were you there? Did she give you anything?"

"She did, actually," Ginny said slowly, not sure how much to divulge. But, she needed some more information, and although Allan was a slippery devil, he might know something she didn't. "Information. She mentioned something about the 'Prince's Wizard.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Allan frowned. "No, actually," he said slowly. "And I'm not being funny, but even without knowing what she's talking about, it doesn't sound good at all. I mean, 'Prince' must be Prince John, that's obvious, yeah?" Ginny nodded in agreement. "And…well… if he has a _wizard_, that can't possibly be a good thing for us, can it?"

Ginny shook her head. "Probably not," she said truthfully. For once, she agreed wholeheartedly with Allan a Dale. If Prince John was somehow enlisting magical help in order to seize the throne, it definitely wasn't a good thing for them at all.

* * *

_A/N: The plot thickens! Ginny finally finds another witch, and learns of a (potentially dangerous) wizard to boot! Mortianna is entirely my own character (finally, I can claim to "own" something in this story), but she is named in honor of the old witch in Prince of Thieves, which is a movie I love not for Kevin Costner, but for Allan Rickman's Sheriff. Using that name is just my way of having a little fun at tying together two movie worlds starring one of my all-time favorite actors (hey, I even named one of my cats Severus). Incidentally, even though her character is not the same character as in Prince of Thieves, I am picturing Geraldine McEwan in my head when I visualize Mortianna._

_Apparently the name Mortianna was also used in that Robin Hood tv series from the 90's, but I never watched it, so I'm not sure how that character compares to mine._

_Incidentally, Mortianna's cave exists in real life, more or less where I describe it. It is sometimes referred to as "Robin Hood's Stable" and the legend is that he kept horses there to rob people traveling along the King's Great Way. At one point earlier in history, it was probably a hermitage, so I converted it to Mortianna's home because it made sense that an exiled witch essentially living as a hermit, so to speak, would make use of it. Piseogai is Irish Gaelic for someone who practices piseog, witchcraft, but it is mostly in the context of someone who heals (or potentially jinxes). As near as I can figure (using Google, so this probably isn't accurate), Piseogai is pronounced something like PISH-o-guoy...but if anyone has a better handle on how to pronounce it, I'd love to know._


	8. Ginny Gets a New Party Dress

_September 8th 1192_

"I have some interesting news," Robin announced, coming into the center of camp in the middle of an unusually brisk Fall morning, Much at his heels. "Care to guess?" The gang roused sleepily from their blankets.

"The King is coming back to England?" Will asked, poking his head up.

"You discovered some information about the Prince's Wizard?" Ginny asked eagerly, making her way towards the center of camp.

"The Sherriff fell down his privy into a giant pile of dung?" John asked dryly, causing Djaq to cover her mouth in laughter.

"You've found a large purse of money in the forest that you've finally decided to spend on us?" Allan asked hopefully, stretching. "What?!" he demanded as the others turned to look at him.

Robin shook his head with a smile. "No, no, unfortunately no, and definitely not. Much better."

"Better than a large purse of gold? Not likely," Allan said, stifling a yawn.

"I don't think any news can top the Sherriff falling into a giant pile of dung," Djaq smiled at Allan.

Allan grinned back at her. "I was enjoying picturing that one too," he agreed. "The thought kind of brightens up the mood, eh?"

"Ahem," Robin said. "If you're all finished?" They all looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled down at them. "Gisborne's having a party. And you know what that means, don't you?"

"Party guests," John said.

"_Rich_ party guests," Allan added happily. "What's the occasion?"

Robin grimaced. "The King's birthday, if you can believe the gall. And in my own house, of all places, according to Much. So let's find out a few more details. Djaq and Allan, that's your job. Go to Locksley this morning and see what you can find out." Djaq and Allan both nodded.

"What about the rest of us?" Will asked.

"We'll need some supplies to prepare," Robin said. "Weapons, clothes…"

"And we really should bring a gift. I mean, if it's a birthday party, it's only polite," Allan said, his eyes twinkling. "We all know that Gisborne will be keeping the gifts for himself anyway. I vote that Red be in charge. After all, Gisborne deserves the very best, and we all know what a knack she has for picking out good presents. I'm sure she can find a nice twig or cow patty around here somewhere to wrap up with a pretty green bow."

"Aren't you ever going to let that go?" Ginny asked, shaking her head.

"Doubt it," Allan said cheerfully. "C'mon Djaq, let's get to it."

* * *

A few short hours later saw Ginny, clad in a simple brown dress with her bright hair carefully tucked under a brown turban, sneaking into the Locksley manor with the help of Mary, head of the Locksley servants.

"Keep an eye on Marian," Robin had told her as he left her at the back of the house. "And be careful."

"How will I know which one is Marian?" Ginny asked in a hushed tone.

Robin smiled. "You'll know," he promised. Ginny nodded nervously, and disappeared after Mary through the backdoor.

"Don't worry, dear. Gisborne never looks twice at the servants anyways. He won't even realize you're new," Mary had told her confidently as she led Ginny deeper into the interior of the house. "All of us are loyal to Master Robin, 'o course, so we're all happy to do a favor for him and take you on. Can't stand having that greasy git GIsborne here in his place, sitting his arse in Master Robin's chair and sleeping in his bed."

Ginny followed Mary through the back of the house towards the kitchen, wishing fervently that Mary would lower her voice. Gisborne had a smattering of guards stationed in the interior of the house. _The last thing I need is to have those comments overheard_, she thought. It was her first real time out with the group on a mission, and she was very anxious to do well. Unfortunately, she was not armed, at least not with her usual weapon. She had a small dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh, and strict instructions to use it only as a last resort to defend herself or Marian. Even though Ginny was fairly adept at handling the dagger, Robin had sternly told her that she wasn't there for fighting. Ginny had tried to argue that, if he didn't want her fighting inside, she'd be more useful outside to provide arrow cover for the rest of them during their escape. The gang had thought this was a great suggestion - "Especially now that you're not a half bad shot," Allan had told her - but Robin overruled them. He was adamant: Ginny was at Locksley to keep an eye on Marian, drawing her dagger and blowing her cover only if absolutely necessary. Besides that, her only other function was to sneak upstairs and undo the latch on Robin's bedchamber window, so that he could climb in. Robin had told Mary a tale of woe about Ginny, claiming she needed a job immediately because her family owed the Sheriff taxes. He also told Mary that he needed Ginny to retrieve a personal item from his bedroom, giving her an excuse to go upstairs. He didn't divulge the real reason he wanted Ginny on site for the party to Mary, to prevent the rest of the staff from knowing what he was planning. Robin trusted his former servants, but he couldn't risk Gisborne sensing that the entire staff at Locksley was on edge, arousing his already suspicious nature.

The Locksley kitchen was bustling with activity, and her stomach growled appreciatively at the delicious wafting aromas coming from large pots set into the fires. Ginny looked longingly at the mounds of scrumptiously tempting food that was happily cooking away in the kitchen, wishing that her mission somehow involved eating. She'd had nothing but rabbit almost exclusively for several days, since the gang had already depleted their store of late summer berries.

A small nudge from Mary turned Ginny's attention to a carriage that was visible from the window, riding towards the main entrance of the house. "Lady Marian and her father, Sir Edward of Knighton are arriving," Mary said in a low voice. "Gisborne sent the carriage for them. The guards are watching me, and Gisborne will be distracted by Lady Marian. This is the best opportunity you'll get to slip upstairs." Mary grabbed several sprigs of lavender. "Take this upstairs and put some in every room, girl," Mary said in a loud enough voice for the guards to overhear despite the noise of the kitchen. "The Master wants every room to smell fresh for his guests."

Ginny grabbed the lavender with a nod, and with an almost imperceptible chin jerk from Mary, began to make her way through the great hall towards the staircase. Many of Gisborne's guests had already arrived, so she carefully wove her way around them with her eyes downcast, as she imagined a servant girl would. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a very tall man dressed all in black, striding across the hall purposefully. _That must be Guy of Gisborne_, Ginny thought. _He fits Robin's description perfectly._ When Ginny reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned her head ever so slightly and saw that he had hurried over in order to meet his newest guests, an elderly bearded gentleman, and a young woman in a very fine red dress. _Marian._ Even at this distance, she could tell that Marian was strikingly beautiful, with glossy black hair, porcelain skin, and light blue eyes.

Ginny hurried up the stairs, and after a quick look around to confirm that she was alone, darted into the door that Robin had described as belonging to the bedchamber. She went directly to the window, and yanked the pin out of the latch that was holding the metal gate blocking the window shut. She swung it open nervously, but almost instantly, Robin's head popped into view with a grin. "Perfect timing," he said, climbing inside. "A group of guests very nearly saw us crouched under the window." Before Ginny could ask who "us" was, Much scrambled into the window after his master.

"Marian is here," Ginny told him. "She's downstairs with Gisborne hovering over her. Where are the others?"

"I know," Robin said. "I saw her and Sir Edward arrive. Everyone else will be coming in downstairs. You'd better get back down too, before you're missed. Stay by Marian if you can - try to hear what she and Gisborne are talking about. But keep your head down."

Ginny nodded, and quickly exited the bedchamber. She didn't leave anything in Gisborne's room, because she didn't want to alert him to the fact that Robin had a servant's help getting in, but she hurriedly tossed the lavender sprigs into the two adjacent rooms before hastening downstairs. Luckily, Gisborne had his back to the stairs, but Marian was standing directly beneath her and saw her coming down. Ginny tried to arrange her features in an unconcerned expression as she headed past Marian and Gisborne to the kitchen. She thought she could feel Marian's eyes following her, but she didn't turn to look. Grabbing a cask of ale from the kitchen, she hurried back out again to find a position closer to Marian, who was now alone with her father by the fireplace, scowling.

"What is it?" Marian's father asked her gently. She gave him an incredulous look.

"What is it? This is Robin's house. Look at these people." Marian looked disdainfully at the other guests

Ginny inched closer to Marian like Robin asked, but was troubled by his request. Why would Robin ask her to eavesdrop on Marian, anyway? Surely Marian herself would tell Robin any important details he needed to know. Or maybe that wasn't why Robin wanted Ginny listening. _Is Robin jealous?_ Ginny couldn't see why he should be, they were supposed to be each other's true love, after all. Surely Marian must be repulsed by Gisborne's unwanted attentions. Ginny tried to look busy while she surreptitiously studied Gisborne from across the room. With his height and dark features, he was a handsome man, there was no denying it. But his mannerisms were not nearly as attractive as his face. Those cold eyes and perpetual sneer more than cancelled out his brooding good looks, in Ginny's opinion. Not to mention his obvious disdain for the people around him. For everyone, it seemed, except Marian.

At just that moment, Gisborne walked to the center of the hall. "My lords, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "thank you for your attendance here today. As you know we are here to celebrate the King's birthday." Gisborne paused long enough to pour wine into several goblets. "We wish him success in the Holy Land," he continued, picking up two of the goblets and walking over to where Marian was standing. "And, we pray for his speedy return to these shores," Gisborne handed the goblets to Marian and her father. He gave Marian an intense look, which she returned as a small but genuine smile, surprising Ginny. _Maybe she's not completely repulsed by him after all, _Ginny thought_. _

He then walked back to the table and picked up his own goblet, turning to the crowd and holding it aloft. "Please, raise your goblets in a toast... to King Richard." The guests copied his movement and words sycophantically, before everyone in the room drank. Gisborne, Ginny noted, was staring at Marian, which seemed to make her a little nervous. She shifted uncomfortably under his smoldering gaze. Gisborne didn't seem to notice Marian's discomfort, because he then smiled and continued. " I, myself have a particular reason to hope for the King's early return to England," he said. "For when that day comes, this fair lady, Marian, has consented to be my wife."

A shocked Marian gave him a wide-eyed look, _like a deer in lantern lights_, Ginny thought, while the room filled with polite applause. Her father grabbed her hand and gave it a conciliatory little squeeze, while Ginny felt a rush of sympathy for Marian, who looked completely gobsmacked by Gisborne's announcement. Gisborne was oblivious to Marian's distress, and was now moving towards her with something in his hand. "Before I toast my future bride," he said with a hint of a smile, "there is something that I would like to present to her." He stopped directly in front of Marian, and looked down at her. Ginny was surprised. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he looked at Marian with genuine tenderness. "May I," he asked, holding out a rather large and expensive-looking ring.

In contrast to his tentative smile, Marian's face was ashen. "You leave me little choice," she whispered to him. For a moment, a shadow passed over his face. _Is he angry or hurt by Marian's reaction? _ Ginny couldn't be sure.

"I thought you had already made your choice," he reminded her gently, barely loud enough for Ginny to hear.

To her surprise, Marian gave him a small smile. "I have," she agreed. "This means so much to you, doesn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"This means everything to me," Gisborne said softly. "Have I not expressed myself? You mean everything to me," he continued, and there was no mistaking the genuine emotion in his voice. His words were intended for Marian's ears only, and Ginny felt a little intrusive hearing them too.

He grabbed Marian's hand, and Ginny got the distinct impression that this private conversation between Marian and Gisborne was exactly the kind of thing Robin wanted to know about. But Ginny wasn't sure that telling Robin was a good idea. Marian may not have looked overjoyed…but she didn't exactly look horrified either. Clearly, there was more to this situation than Ginny realized.

Gisborne slipped the ring on Marian's finger, and paused with a little sigh of what sounded like relief. _Had he been nervous about giving Marian the ring_? Ginny asked herself, surprised by him again. Gisborne then smiled at Marian, and turned to the crowd holding a wine goblet aloft. "My lords and ladies," he said with obvious pleasure, "I give you the future Lady Gisborne."

A strange whooshing sound sliced through the resulting cheers as an arrow knocked the goblet from Gisborne's hand to a collective gasp from the guests.

_Robin._ Ginny instinctively looked up towards the bedchamber for him. She found him right at the top of the stairs, lounging against one of the crossbeams. Ginny realized too late that Marian had noticed her abrupt head turn, and had followed her gaze upward to Robin. Ginny's eyes carefully flickered over to Marian, and was startled to realize that Marian was staring back at her. _She knows I helped him in._

Robin, ever the showman, soon drew the attention of everyone in the room to himself. "Have we missed the speeches?" he asked laughingly from his position overlooking the room. Gisborne scowled upward while Ginny saw Marian give Robin a brief radiant smile that she quickly hid.

Just then, there was a resounding crash from the back of the house, as John and Djaq burst from the back of the house, and Allan came barreling through the front door. Ginny couldn't help a small smile of her own at the sight of them, though she tried to keep her features studiedly neutral. Gisborne, however, did not share Ginny and Marian's amusement.

"Hood!" he bit out. "I don't remember inviting you."

Robin scoffed, exchanging a look with Much, who was keeping his bow trained on Gisborne's chest. "Since when has a man needed an invitation to his own house?" he asked innocently, looking down at Gisborne. Much came down the staircase and took his position on the floor as Djaq moved to the front of the great hall.

"Oh, I don't know," Gisborne sneered up at Robin. "Perhaps since he lost all rights to that house by becoming an outlaw?"

Robin chuckled. "I would have declined anyway," he told Gisborne. "My men and I are here on business. Please, everyone," Robin said, addressing the crowd at large, "if you could assist us by removing

all your jewelry and valuables and handing them to that man over there…Much?

Ginny turned to find Much, and saw that he was helping himself to some of the party food. Ginny shook her head, torn between exasperation and envy. John and Allan started herding the guests towards the back of the house. They made no move to gather Ginny with the rest, so she stayed put close to Marian. Gisborne and Robin continued to snipe at each other, Robin smugly superior, Gisborne furiously impotent as his guests were robbed of their valuables. Ginny found herself watching the two of them, and Marian, fascinated. But she immediately snapped herself out of it when she heard the rapping at the front door, three distinct thuds. _Will_, she thought. _Something's wrong._

"Signal," John said aloud, looking towards the rest of them, motioning. Robin, although he too looked at the door, made no move to hasten to an exit.

"Nearly done," he said instead, leaning his bow against the post at the bottom of the stairs, and intently walking towards Marian and Gisborne.

"Master?" Much asked, a little fearful, but Robin pointedly ignored him. Much, Allan and John were all clustered together in the front of the hall, while Djaq positioned herself next to Gisborne, sword drawn. Robin was now right in front of Marian.

"Robin, this is ugly," Sir Edward began, looking anxiously from Robin to Gisborne.

"Yes, this _is _ugly," Robin agreed, pointedly looking at Gisborne. "This is my house. So, Marian -,"

"Back off Locksley," Gisborne snarled, leaning forward slightly. "Marian does not carry money about her person." John was on Gisborne in an instant, pressing his staff into the other man's neck as a warning.

"How do you know," Robin asked disdainfully to the pinned Gisborne, but Marian shook her head.

"He is right," she confirmed. "I do not carry money." Marian met Robin's eyes, pleading, and Ginny could see a wealth of unsaid emotion in that look. She fervently hoped that Gisborne was too agitated to notice.

Robin suddenly smiled at Marian, as if enjoying some inside joke. "My compliments," he said. "You are very wise to take precautions when there are so many _unsavory_ characters around." His eyes twinkled at Marian, but then stared pointedly down at her hand, which he grabbed. "But this ring…tsk," he shook his head. Ginny knew what was coming next, and she had a feeling that it would only make things worse. At least two minutes had passed since Will's signal. _This is _not_ good._

As if reading her mind, John piped up again in a more insistent voice. "Robin - _signal_." Djaq and Much were both staring at Robin with wide eyes, incredulously. Ginny didn't blame them, Robin should have already left the scene. She briefly scanned the room for Allan, but he must have already slipped out the back.

Continuing to ignore the mounting danger, Robin grabbed the ring on Marian's finger. "You've taken everything else," Gisborne protested angrily. "You can leave that."

"Robin…" Marian's voice trailed off pleadingly as she stared at him.

"What," he asked softly, leaning closer to her. Precious seconds were ticking by, and Ginny's stomach started to clench. Surely, _surely_ Robin wouldn't jeopardize the whole gang over such a trifling thing? Out of pure spite towards Gisborne?

_"The signal_," John said again urgently, releasing Gisborne and motioning to the others. Much and Djaq followed him towards the back, but Ginny stayed where she was, transfixed by Robin's strange behavior. She watched in suspended disbelief as Robin leisurely kissed Marian's hand and pulled off her ring.

"We should do this again," he said to Gisborne, clearly delighting in the other man's scowl. "It was entertaining." He turned to follow Much out the back door. Instantly, Gisborne's sword was drawn.

"With any luck, once will be enough," he sneered, as he lunged at Robin. Robin drew his own sword and turned to fight, his eyes lighting up at once. Ginny could tell, by the way his eyes danced, that Robin had been hoping for this chance at confrontation all along. Edward immediately seized Marian and dragged her a good distance away, under protest, and Ginny moved next to Marian and Sir Edward. In a flash, Robin had Gisborne pinned against the wall, his arm anchored by Robin's dagger. As Robin backed away, keeping his sword trained on Gisborne, Gisborne wrenched his arm free. As he did so, he ripped his sleeve in the process, revealing a dark blotch on his arm. Ginny was too far away to see the details, but it looked like a tattoo of some kind. Unfortunately, when Robin saw it, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Surprise," Gisborne smirked, as Robin gaped at him. Ginny couldn't fathom what was going on, and a quick glance at Marian confirmed that she wasn't the only one stymied. But Gisborne evidently understood far more of Robin's reaction than they did.

"It was _you_," Robin said, in a voice that was at one horrified and filled with hatred. Ginny didn't understand any of the exchange, but she was horrified herself when she saw the look on Robin's face. He looked like he had been Confunded. Worst of all, he was just standing there while Guy was busily extricating himself from the wall and preparing to advance on him.

_What are you doing?!_ Ginny inwardly screamed, as she started to step forward, but Marian's hand on her arm made her pause. Ginny was about to shake Marian off when she was suddenly accosted by a mental image, or rather, a jumble of images swimming into her consciousness and overriding her sense of time and place: swords clashing in the night against a backdrop of flapping tents, men fighting and screaming in the dark, a pair of cold blue eyes looking at her over a scarf, Robin and Gisborne trading insults, and a tattoo. A black tattoo, running red with blood. She felt white-hot anger surging through her veins, but it wasn't her anger at all. It was Robin's. Ginny was caught completely off-guard by what she was seeing and feeling. The strength of the foreign emotions had overwhelmed her senses.

_Are these…Robin's memories? Did I accidentally invade Robin's mind?_ Before Ginny could fully process this, she became dimly aware of Djaq's urgent voice shouting in the distance. The sound was muffled, as though she had cotton balls wadded up in her ears, and Ginny strained to concentrate on Djaq's voice. Quite suddenly, the connection between herself and Robin seemed to break, and Djaq's voice cut through the vision like a knife.

"Robin! What's the matter with you?! Wake up!" Ginny came mentally crashing back to the great hall just in time to see Djaq pushing Robin towards the back of the house, away from Gisborne. Quick as a snake, Gisborne advanced on Djaq and hit her on the back of the head with his dagger, knocking her out cold. Ginny was suddenly conscious of the dagger strapped to her thigh, but common sense and Marian's hand kept her in place. Robin and the others were gone, and she was vastly outnumbered. If she wanted to help Djaq, she'd have to do more than draw her dagger all by herself.

At that precise moment, something happened that took Ginny's breath away, even though she had been anticipating it almost since she had first learned of where and when she was. A man entered Locksley Manor, a man whom she had never seen before: rather short, balding and with a grey beard. And yet for all his small physical stature, he exuded authority, absolute confidence, and the habit of command. Ginny knew at once who he had to be, the aura of power around him was undeniable, very nearly visible, and his mere presence was like a physical impact. At long last, she was laying eyes on the notorious Sheriff of Nottingham.


End file.
